Betrothed to Him
by Sanditon
Summary: Forced to give up her dreams of knighthood, Kel is betrothed to someone she never thought she would see again...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The world of Tortall and associated characters belongs to Tamora Pierce :)

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** Betrothed to Him**

After being forced to abandon her dreams of knighthood, Kel finds she is betrothed to a man she thought she would never see again

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Prologue

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It was dark in the room, save for the glimmering lamp that perched upon the desk, scattered with scrolls and unbound parchment. Though the bells had not yet rung signalling the midnight hour, there was complete silence. Even the faint patter of raindrops, and the sighing of the wind could be heard against the glass windowpanes. 

The man at the desk sighed, and pressed his palms together in an automatic gesture. This was an altogether unexpected situation he had not expected - especially not now – particularly not from _her. _

"You mean to give up your knighthood." Lord Wyldon finally said. His voice was flat. The brown haired girl before his desk nodded, and met his gaze evenly, refusing to show any emotion.

"I do, my lord," she replied.

"May I ask why?" His voice was equally even, though in his eyes, there showed a spark of surprise. For why would Keladry of Mindelan wish to give up now? She had worked hard for nearly four years! She was so close to achieving her goal, and yet she wished to drop it all? For what possible reason could it be?

Kel had been expecting this question, but she knew that the answer was not for others to know. She knew she could never admit the truth to him, the sorry, dreadful truth of why she was to abandon her cherished dream. Lord Wyldon could think what he liked – some things were simply never discussed.

Kel swallowed.

"I've had enough," she said, looking at the carpeted floor. It would be impossible to conceal the truth from him if he saw her expression then. "It's like you said in my first year, my lord. Seeing other girls my age, knowing I'll never be like one of them. I need to find what I truly am, not simply hold fast to something I've no resolution for any longer."

"We are sorry to see you leave, Keladry of Mindelan," Lord Wyldon said in answer. Kel did not see the small frown that crinkled his brow just then, nor the slightly pitying glance he gave her. Whatever the girl had said just then, Lord Wyldon was certain is was complete and utter nonsense.

There was something else at the heart of this – something subtler. There was discord in Mindelan, Lord Wyldon thought to himself. Something from home was taking her away.

_Sorry to see her leave?_ Kel knew he did not mean was he said. They would be glad to see her go, the girl who had dared to be one of them, the girl who had dared to break all the existing rules of society. That was the truth.

Kel held her head high when she exited Lord Wyldon's office. She was not fleeing from this place. She had to be strong – for herself, and for her family. They needed her right now. She needed to return home.

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Kel wanted to make her exit from the palace quiet, slipping away like one of the shadows on the walls, so that when dawn arose, there would be no signs that she had ever existed amongst them. Unfortunately, all her careful preparation had evaded at least one perceptive individual. 

Neal leant against the doorframe of her room, his hair mussed from sleep and his eyes worried, as he watched her readying to leave.

"Kel? Why are you packing? What's happened?"

Kel continued to fold clothes away, refusing to meet his eyes. It was hard enough to leave – but it would be well nigh impossible if Neal continued in this vein.

"Nothing's wrong, Neal," she answered mechanically, rolling up her Yamani lucky cats into a linen shirt. "I'm leaving."

"What?" Neal gaped at her. "You can't!"

He began to run his fingers feverishly through his hair, a sure sign that he was worried, eyes darting almost wildly to and fro.

"Was it the Stump?" he demanded suddenly. "Was it something he said? Kel, Mithros damn it, you can't leave!"

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking her from leaving, his expression now mulish, as she closed her trunk.

"It was nothing to do with Lord Wyldon," Kel said calmly, in great contrast to Neal's agitated ramblings. "I simply can't take this anymore. I'm leaving, Neal, and that is final."

She picked up her glaive, and wrapped it carefully, almost deferentially. It would probably be the last time she would be allowed to handle such a dangerous weapon. Weapons and warfare were after all, not the province of young ladies – such as she was to become.

"You really want to go, don't you?" Neal's eyes were dark, hurt by her actions that seemed so utterly void of emotion. "You think you can simply quit, and skip off with all the others? You're really giving it up?"

His voice cracked. He was still barring her way, his hair standing on end, the palest hint of his gift crackling about him.

Kel closed the last of her packing cases, and secured it. She looked at her friend at last, and her expression was one of resignation.

"Yes," she said softly. "I'm giving it all up."

Neal shot his friend one last desperate look, standing there in silence. It wouldn't last long, Kel thought. And she was right.

"How can you?" he finally burst out, after only a few minutes. "I thought you were my friend!"

Kel shut her eyes. They were wet with unshed tears.

"You don't understand," Kel said sadly. "You would never understand."

"Fine!" Neal said loudly, and there was anger mixed in now with the hurt that swam in his eyes. "Fine. I bid you farewell, my lady. And I hope you enjoy your future."

Kel felt her heart wrenching beneath her as she stared at her former best friend striding away down the corridor. But she had to stay emotionless. She had to stay calm, like a smooth lake untouched by the winds of emotion. There was no use thinking of the past now. She had to concentrate on her new future. A future she never envisaged she would ever follow.

"Goodbye, Nealan of Queenscove," she whispered, and finally at last, allowed one tear to fall.

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	2. Betrothed to Who?

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter One

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Keladry of Mindelan sat in her simply furnished convent bedroom, a rolled up parchment clutched tightly in her hands. It was her betrothal contract. She didn't know how long she had been sitting here, as her eyes faced the opposite wall, blank and emotionless.

First it had been her dream of a knighthood. She remembered the words Anders had used when she had pleaded with him.

_"We can't afford it any longer Kel, we're sorry. We need you to make a successful marriage: a knighthood isn't an option anymore." _

Out of her duty to her family, Kel had no choice. She had immediately left, without even time to say a proper goodbye to her friends. She had written to them at the convent, but had received no reply. It pained her that they had broken their friendship with her so abruptly. She tried not to think of one farewell in particular – sometimes even now, she thought of it – and regretted not having told him the truth.

Kel had rushed home when the terrible news came – that the ambassador Piers of Mindelan had returned from the Yamani Islands with no alliance, and no marriage contract for Prince Roald, only a renewed surge of hostility towards the eastern realm. Mindelan had instantly lost favour with the crown – how could such a promising fief have lost such a crucially important union with a country that bordered the warring Copper Isles?

Piers of Mindelan had returned home a frighteningly transformed man. His hopes for the future were gone, the trust he had so carefully cultivated shattered. Never of the strongest of health, he fell sick to an ague that no healer could treat, and died only months after Kel's return.

She remembered his passing with pain. It had numbed somewhat over the years now, but it was still there, the wound tender, and prone to re-opening – swamping Kel with grief that was almost impossible to manage.

Lady Ilane had become irrational after the death of her husband, and it had been Anders to pick up the pieces – Anders who had brought their fief out from the ruin it was spiralling into. Already running Mindelan for most part, as the new Baron, he took complete of the family estates, and efficiently managed to halt the disabling damage from debts and poorly managed finances.

Kel had known it would come eventually, but it had still been a shock when Anders sent her to the convent. She had been there for five years now. Five years of mindlessness.

Anders had always been kind to Kel, but the large gap in their ages had never allowed them to become close, and though was friendly, he still realised the necessity of a good marriage. Unlike her parents, Anders would not be giving her a choice. The moment she had been dreading had finally arrived: the betrothal contract had arrived.

Kel turned the scroll over, and at long last studied the seal. She did not recognise it. She couldn't decide whether this was comforting, or even more intimidating. This meant her betrothed was probably a complete stranger. Kel shuddered as she let her imagination take hold of her. It was best not to think of the worst, she told herself, but still the images turned over and over in her mind. Her stomach rolled with nerves.

She forced herself to look at the seal again. Somehow, Kel was certain she had seen it before – there was something familiar about it, something strange she could not quite place.

There was no use procrastinating any longer. The daughters would probably scold her for missing breakfast, but Kel didn't care. She had to know her future husband was, whether she wanted to or not.

Taking a deep breath, she gently broke the wax, and slowly unrolled the parchment. It was heavy and expensive, the kind that was only used for the most official of documents. At the top of the page, there were two coats of arms. One she recognised as the Mindelan crest, and the other, the crest of her betrothed.

Kel's eyes quickly scanned over the official jargon at the heading, noting with disinterest the heavily elaborate calligraphy of a scribe, her gaze darting rapidly down the page.

_It is hereby declared, in the name of the Crown of Tortall, his noble majesty King Jonathan VI and his queen, Thayet, that the union of betrothal between the Houses of Mindelan and Queenscove will take place, with the full consent of the betrothed, and their families, as well as the approval of their Majesties._

Kel's brow furrowed. Queenscove? She continued to read, her eyes skimming over the next paragraph.

She gasped.

The parchment slid out of her unresisting hands.

No! It couldn't be!

_It is formally agreed that Sir Nealan of Queenscove, eldest surviving son and heir apparent of Duke Baird of Queenscove, is hereby betrothed to Keladry of Mindelan, third and youngest daughter of Baron Piers of Mindelan._

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Please review! 


	3. The Aftermath

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Two

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Kel's head was spinning, her thoughts in disarray. Neal - her page sponsor from her knighthood years. She covered her face with her hands. Disbelief crashed upon her in a flood. Mithros, this couldn't be happening. 

There was a tentative knock against her door.

"My lady?"

Kel lifted her head from her hands, and tried to school her features into a neutral expression. It was most likely one of the daughters, here to reprimand her for her truancy. Hoping her voice sounded normal, she called for them to enter.

Immediately she saw it was not anyone of the convent at all. A blank-faced messenger, dressed in the colours of Mindelan held out a letter. Kel took it, and saw that the handwriting was Anders' messy scrawl.

"You may go," she quietly told the messenger. After he left, she shut the door, and bolted it. She did not wish there to be any unwanted interruptions, especially not when she was in this state. Walking towards the window, she unfolded the letter to read.

_Dear Kel. _

_I know you're probably furious with me right now. After all, I know you didn't want the betrothal, but I want you to understand. When you last came home, there wasn't an opportunity for me to explain properly, but we have virtually nothing in the way of funds, Kel. The Scanran War stripped our lands - of people and of wealth. We get little enough rent as it is, but now it is barely enough to keep everyone fed. Mother refuses to let us to sell our land. I had no other choice. I've had an arranged marriage. All the rest of us have. I want the best for you - you know I do – but there are people who need this desperately. An entire fief is relying upon this betrothal. Even though this won't be of much comfort to you now, at least you know him. Queenscove is a rich house. I trust that you won't even have to live with him if you don't want to. _

_I just wanted to let you know Kel that I understand. _

_Anders_

Kel put the letter down, and stared blindly out of the window, at the grey mountainous horizon, and the pale greenery of the lower slopes. Of course Anders didn't understand – whatever he chose to believe. He was a man. He had been allowed his knighthood, a modicum of choice in the matters of matrimony, and he didn't have to leave Mindelan.

_She_ had to abandon her dreams, would have to live in a great big castle, far away from home, and have to provide an heir. Yes, an heir. Did Anders not realise? Or did simply think it was a passing matter of minimum importance? Neal was the eldest son. She would have to provide a son to allow the line to continue. She couldn't bear to think about it.

Kel smoothed her skirt with trembling hands. What would Neal think of her now? The last time they had seem each other he had already passed eighteen, whilst she had still been thirteen years of age. The five years had done much to change her drastically. She wondered if they had done the same for him?

It was a hideous nightmare she was living in, a cage from which there was no escape - no waking up to find that it was only a bad dream. Kel did not want to think about this marriage but she knew she would have to, she would have to face up to the inevitable, all along knowing that she had no choice in the matter whatsoever.

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The visitor's room at the convent was strangely quiet, despite the occupant that walked up and down, checking the candle marked with the hours, looking outside to see the position of the sun in the sky, before resuming her movements across the room. 

Kel was more nervous than she had been in a long time, as she paced the room, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. It was going to happen at last. After five years, she was going to see Neal again.

Kel drew a breath, and paused momentarily. What was it going to be like? What was he going to think of her, after all these years? Would he be approachable? Or, Kel thought of the worst scenario, would it be terrible? Would he be cold and formal whilst the atmosphere rigid with palpable tension?

She picked at a loose thread in the embroidery of her dress restlessly. Kel had taken extra care in choosing her gown for this meeting. She hadn't wanted to wear something too feminine, after all, she didn't want to seem out of character, but something not to plain either. In the end, she had chosen an ordinary dress of russet red, which she was now picking to pieces in her anxiety.

Her ears prickled. She could hear footsteps echoing in the corridor outside. He was coming. Kel swallowed, straightened her skirt, and turned round to prepare for the worst.

A novice garbed in white opened the door, and curtsied to Kel, before moving to a discreet corner of the room.

"Sir Nealan of Queenscove, my lady."

It was all Kel could do not to stare. He _had _changed. Gone was the lanky clumsiness of before, she watched him walk through the door with a casual yet determined grace, before halting, and making a low bow. She dropped into a well-practiced curtsy, her heart thudding almost audibly – it was so loud.

As he straightened, his eyes focused upon her, eyes that Kel remembered only too well, a vivid emerald green, overshadowed by the unruly mess of his dark brown hair. He stared.

"Kel?"

Kel smiled wryly. Maybe he hadn't changed that much after all. Neal still spoke very much like he used to.

Neal misinterpreted the expression on her face. His expression was clouded with uncertainty as he said his next sentence.

"Should I have said Keladry? Uh sorry um Kel-adry."

Kel sighed. He had suddenly transformed once again. The awkward Neal from five years ago had suddenly returned, voice, mannerisms and all – still unchangeably the Neal she had known so well. What on earth had made her think he'd changed?

"Neal," she said firmly, "You can still call me Kel."

A flash of relief crossed his face, only to be replaced once more by neutral politeness, as she gestured for him to take a seat. She observed him as she took a seat opposite. He was still playing cautious, Kel realised. She would have to be direct.

"No doubt you didn't travel all the way here just to address me as Keladry, did you?" she asked bluntly.

She was right. Neal's eyes flashed with surprise. He shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat, took a deep breath and began.

"Alright, it's about the betrothal contract. I need to talk to you about it."

His eyes met hers. Kel nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue. She had expected this to happen, after all. Neal looked just as nervous as she felt, using his hand to brush away the wayward locks of hair that had fallen over his face.

"Kel," he began hesitantly. "I want you to know that I – never really imagined us this way. The betrothal was a surprise to me, and, well-"

He paused and raked his fingers through his hair again. Kel watched him. His hair had grown since she had last seen him, she thought to herself, and then wondered why she was thinking of such trivial things when there was something far more important to consider. She realised she was staring intently at him, and quickly shifted her eyes, before beginning to speak.

"I admit I was quite shocked when I saw the betrothal contract," she said quietly, looking at the opposite wall. "I didn't know what you would think of me," she added. Neal saw the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

"I don't think the worse of you for leaving," he answered carefully. "None of us do. At the time I was angry, confused…we thought maybe you didn't want to stay friends with us, not when you'd be making friends here, friends who were girls, not boys who liked to fight and tussle in the mud."

Kel had to grin at that. Neal, with all his airs and academic pursuits would have been the least likely candidate for rolling in the mud. Though, as she reflected, he had been forced to do quite a lot of that in jousting practice. She remembered how all the girls had avoided her like the plague when she had arrived, the taunting and hostility she had had to put up with.

"Believe me, I did not want to make friends with the girls here," Kel said seriously, and then pulled a face.

Neal grinned at that as well. Kel suddenly remembered the numerous crushes he had had, when they had been friends, and how he had pined over each one for days before finally admitting he had moved on. She was filled was melancholy nostalgia, as she said her next sentence. Her tone was cautious, but at the same time hopeful.

"I would like it if we became friends again."

Neal had become serious again too. He smiled, a little sadly.

"I'd like that as well."

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Please review! I know this just looks like a repeat of the last chapter, but I decided to rewrite the entire thing again so the chappies hopefully will be a bit longer, and there's a prologue too!  



	4. So It Begins

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Three

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After the conversation they had had together, the tension between Kel and Neal had finally broken. He had had to return to border patrol, but Kel was to join him at Midwinter back in Corus for preparations for the impeding wedding.

The wedding.

Though two months had passed now, Kel was still getting used the basic idea of being married to Neal. Neal of all people!

Kel had expected to have an arranged marriage eventually, but nothing could have prepared her for this, being married to her former best friend.

Lady Keladry of Queenscove.

In her ears it sounded strange and unfamiliar, the name of some ravishing court beauty, the type that Neal used to yearn after.

Kel sighed a little enviously as she remembered what those stunning noblewomen had looked like. She knew her own physical appearance was nothing bordering on hideous, though she sometimes thought rather wistfully that it would never exactly be a misfortune to be beautiful like her mother and older sisters. Having not practised weaponry since she was thirteen, her physique had developed in a way it would not have done had she still been learning to be a knight. She didn't have the curves that some of the other girls had, but with her height and slim figure, she could be called willowy. Her looks were passably attractive, just not the kind of beauty lovesick squires would write soppy verses to.

She wondered what it would be like, seeing all her old friends and enemies again. Kel stiffened, a cold grip tightening about her chest.

Joren.

She had heard no news about him from Neal. How hostile would they be to each other? Was he still going to pick fights? Kel had to grin wryly at that; fighting was completely out of the question now that she was officially a lady, a betrothed lady at that, and no longer a knight-in-training.

There was still one month before she had to leave for Corus, and she was amazed at the change in behaviour from many of her fellow companions. Formerly hostile girls had begun to smile at her and extend arms of friendship. Kel was not fooled. The news that she was betrothed to the heir of a ducal house had spread like wildfire. Kel knew they did not want to anger the future Duchess of Queenscove.

Kel sat at her window, gazing out over the breathtaking mountainous scenery before her. She had talked for a long time with Neal, discussing every aspect of their future marriage. Eventually, even the awkward subject of an heir had been broached. Neal had assured her he would wait until she was ready, a statement which Kel had been most thankful for, she wanted children sometime in the future, just not so soon.

Kel had had her measurements taken three days Neal had taken his leave, by a seamstress sent all the way from Corus. They were for her wedding gown, which had given her nervous jittery feelings for the rest of the night. She had no idea what the actual dress would be like, the seamstress having assured her it was in capable hands. She supposed it would have the colours of either Mindelan or Queenscove incorporated into it.

Kel sighed, resting her chin in her hands. Everything had gone by so fast; she wasn't sure how she was going to cope in the end. Maybe she would have a breakdown in the middle of the wedding ceremony. Or not. Sadly, Kel was the last person who'd have a mental breakdown. She would remain forever frustratingly sane. Well, at least it seemed that way.

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The convent bell gently chimed the midday hour, and rows of neatly dressed girls filed into the dining room for dinner. Kel stood with the other older girls, all between sixteen and eighteen, as they waited in line to be served. 

Kel was impatient for lunch to be finished. Earlier that morning, a courier had given her a letter sealed with the Queenscove crest. Kel had looked curiously at the parchment in her hands, but had not time to read anything that was written within.

Kel had rarely received letters in the past, but since her betrothal had they begun to flood in. Well wishes from many of her former friends. They had probably been persuaded by Neal to write, she thought mournfully, noting their detached forms of address and greeting.

There had been many letters from relatives congratulating her on the fine match she had made. This generally made Kel feel rather sullen. After all, Anders had connived the entire betrothal, not her. All she had done was watch passively as everything had been done around her. She always got strange twinges at the mention of her marriage, and her introduction to Court, creeping closer and closer.

Her midday meal finished, the girls retired to their rooms for quiet embroidery. Kel slipped the letter from out of her pocket. It was only a little creased from the day's wear, and the address to her was written in Neal's jagged but legible scrawl. She quickly opened the letter, eager to read what he had written.

_Dear Kel, _

_This is my first letter to you, which you may receive shortly before your departure. I'm being released from border patrol five weeks before Midwinter. The King claims he has no need for me any longer, but I refuse to believe that claim, no doubt it is a hint to begin preparing for your introduction to Court, and official announcement of our betrothal and impeding marriage. I'm sure Court will warm to you, so don't spend too long worrying. Remember how we were about the yearly examinations? We always thought it would be worse that it turned out to be; I'm sure Court Introductions will be just the same. I hope the girls at the convent are treating you all right, but don't hesitate to tell me if they aren't. _

_ Neal_

Kel held the letter in her hands for a while longer than was strictly necessary. Folded between her fingers, she closed her eyes. She was feeling those little twinges again, though these were different from the ones she had experienced earlier. Those had been prickly; these twinges felt shivery yet warm, and strangely comforting. Even stranger, the prospect of marrying Neal didn't seem quite so daunting now. She was almost looking forward to Midwinter, when she would be able to see Neal again.

Kel stood up, a strange expression on her face, which could be called resolve or determination. She would not lose courage.

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	5. Arriving At Corus

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Four

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It was a journey of more that two weeks, from the convent high in the mountains of the north, down the city of Corus, perched in the south of the realm. Kel had set off early, the First Daughter's warnings about avalanches and dangerous mountain passes ringing in her ears. 

They had travelled slowly, but steadily. Luckily for Kel, the passes had been clear, for a week after they had traversed most of the treacherous mountainous roads, an unexpectedly fierce blizzard had sealed the entrances to the City of the Gods shut.

They had stopped by briefly at Mindelan, though it had been somewhat out of the way. Kel had been hoping to talk to someone familiar, to have one last chance to experience her old life before she made the lonely trek down to Corus, but none of her brothers had been at home, only her numerous sisters-in-law, with her boisterous nieces and nephews.

Anders had taken Lady Ilane with him down to Seabeth and Seajen to visit their formidable maternal grandmother whilst Kel's sisters had long left Mindelan ago to their new families and fiefdoms. Kel had stopped at Mindelan for only two nights – her sisters-in-law were only interested in hearing about her future husband – and how rich and influential she was to be.

Kel had lost count of the number of inns they had stopped at, and the number of days she had spent rattling away in the carriage, her backside feeling the bumps and potholes in the roads as the flimsy vehicle lurched and fell.

Eventually, even Kel had lost patience with the carriage, and admitted defeat. She'd opted for horseback instead – though it was hardly more comfortable, and considerably more tiring, was a good deal less frustrating than being flung from side to side.

When the hills of Corus, and the glittering vein of the River Bonnet could finally be spotted in the distance, Kel was thoroughly sick of travelling. Thankfully, she at last rode through the city gates, ignoring the morning chatter as the traders brought away their wares, and flung various pieces of merchandise in front of her eyes, imploring her to buy.

It was a tired Keladry of Mindelan who plodded up the hill towards the Royal Palace. Her mare kept up an astonishingly slow pace, probably as exhausted as she, as she plodded towards the Great Audience Gates and the palace wall. Kel was starting to regret her decision not to come in the carriage, which trailed behind along with her escort.

The royal palace looked the same as it had when she had first arrived before these gates. That time, she had been an anxious and excited page, ready to prove herself as a knight. Now, five years later, she was here again, as a lady, to prepare for her wedding, taking place at the conclusion of the Midwinter celebrations.

Strange feelings roused themselves in Kel, feelings she had never thought she would have, as she looked at the distant towers, pennants flying from them in the brisk wind. Why, she could have sworn she felt happy to see the palace again, despite the reason for coming. The buildings of the palace began to loom above her, and she sighed at their familiarity.

"My lady?"

A holster was standing before her, reaching up for the bridle of her mare. Kel dismounted gratefully, her muscles screaming in protest. She ached terribly from being on horseback for so long.

She had not walked far when a servant attired in the colours of Queenscove appeared by her side, bowing low.

"My lady, I was instructed by my lord, Sir Nealan to take you to your rooms. Your belongings will be taken separately. If you will come this way?"

Kel followed the manservant, wincing as she walked; it had been a week since she had been able to properly stretch her legs, and they seemed to realise it. They were headed towards the section of the palace where the nobles had their suites; the more luxurious part of the palace, which Kel remembered bordered the Pages' Wing. She smiled to herself, lost in memory as she walked past that part of the palace, but that time was long gone now.

The manservant stopped outside an ornate door. Kel stepped inside, to a bedchamber more luxurious than any she had ever slept in before. This would be her room for the months until the wedding. After that, her living arrangements would change, something Kel was trying hard not to think about. She was not yet sure whether she was required to share a suite with Neal, or whether she would still have her own rooms.

The manservant was still standing by the door.

"You will find my lord in the practice grounds my lady," he said, answering Kel's unspoken question, and closed the door, leaving Kel alone in the room.

Kel looked about her in awe, all tiredness forgotten as she acquainted herself with her new surroundings. Although she would have to wait for her things to arrive before going anywhere, meanwhile, she was going to explore her new quarters.

Three doors led away from the main bedchamber. The first door opened onto a dressing room, with steps leading down to the heated baths below, and a privy discreetly hidden behind a carved screen. The second door led to a small sitting room, decorated in pastel blue, and the last door led to a study, complete with a desk and shelves crammed with the latest publications from noted scholars.

Each room was hung with blue and cream silk tapestries, and Kel was touched by the thoughtfulness of the person who had chosen them for her room - the colours of her fief.

Coming out of the study, she was surprised by several maids already unpacking her belongings. She had barely even heard them come in – despite the fact they had already nearly finished. Picking up the necessary clothes, she walked to the dressing room to change her clothes.

Kel had never been one to really fuss about clothes, but she was going to see Neal, meet her former friends, and confront those who would be hostile to the girl who had dared try for her knighthood.

Shrugging off her travelling cloak, dress and shift, she eyed her variously coloured gowns with a certain degree of despair. Kel was unsure which one to pick. She needed a gown that showed she was a lady now, not a page who simply wanted to make a stand and show she was still a girl. Kel needed something elegant that breathed class without being overly extravagant.

Kel sighed, closed her eyes, and picked the first dress and she touched. When she finally left her rooms, she was wearing a green surcoat over a cream woollen kirtle, knowing that she would have to have more gowns made to the latest fashionable court styles. Her dress was passable for a minor noblewoman, but as Neal's betrothed she would be required to wear finer gowns, in silks and velvet, not the wools and linen she was accustomed to wearing.

Kel walked down the corridor, becoming more and more nervous with each step. Her former Yamani training mostly been lost at the Convent, and she was sure her apprehension showed on her face.

At last she reached the door that lead to the practice courts. Brushing back loose strands of hair, she took a deep breath, and reached for the latch.


	6. Meeting Old Friends

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Five

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The first thing that Kel noticed was the sunlight that struck her face, obscuring her view of the Practice Courts. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun, and peered over the courts, her heart thumping.

To her relief, everyone seemed too engaged in their separate activities to notice the young woman who crept tentatively into the area.

Kel scanned the courts, looking for the sight of Neal. There were knights everywhere, fencing, wrestling, or practicing archery further off into the distance. Occasionally there would be a crash, as a squire practising their tilting would clip their lance against the board, and fall head over heels, the sandbag giving them a thorough wallop.

She was beginning to give up, when she heard his familiar drawl in the distance. He was in bout with someone who looked like an older Merric, damp red hair plastered across his forehead as he parried and lunged. Kel leaned against the fence, and waited for them to finish. Strange feelings began to stir within her, as she watched them. It could have been her in the practice court, her wielding a sword with precision and ease. Her, Keladry of Mindelan, being a knight.

Kel had thought she'd gotten over her disappointment at the loss of her knighthood, but it seemed evidently not. Old dreams did not fade away easily, especially if the dreamer still dreamt. Kel still longed for her chance to lift up her weapon against the enemy, to bring honour and glory to her family through the battlefield, but it seemed as though it would never come to pass.

A sudden burst of hope surged through her as she remembered the Riders, or the Queen's Ladies. But then, that burst of hope faded as quickly as it had arrived. She would be a married woman – of a status that would never allow her to be accepted into either company. It was too late.

Kel was brought back to the present as Neal suddenly darted forwards, knocking Merric's sword aside, and brought his sword point to stop at the bridge of Merric's nose. Merric grinned and stepped back.

"I yield."

Neal grinned at his fellow knight who was pouring with sweat, and looked about on the verge of collapse.

"No more?" he enquired, arching an eyebrow in amusement.

"You've already beaten me six times today Neal," Merric gasped, "I'm exhausted and I need to salvage the remains of my pride." He sheathed his sword, and dropped it onto a bench. "Anyway, there's a lady who looks rather keen to talk to you too, over there. What is it that you've done now?"

Neal looked in the direction, which Merric was gesturing towards. He grinned when he saw Kel, and waved her over. Kel suddenly found herself rather shy at the prospect, and smiled uncertainly, as she slowly inched towards the centre of the court.

"Kel," he said breathlessly, when she was within speaking distance, "I thought you'd have arrived. Let me reintroduce you to everyone."

Kel looked rather unsure, looking nervously at the crowd of squires and knights grouped variously in the distance. She didn't think she recognised any of them. Merric hadn't appeared to recognise her either. How would they all react when they realised who she was.

"Are you sure?" she asked rather doubtfully, "After all-"

Neal gave her a little nudge in the direction of Merric, who had staggered over to the side, and was gulping from waterskin. "Of course they won't hate you," he said reassuringly, answering her unspoken question. "They were your friends, they won't run off because you left and got betrothed to me."

With a little more of Neal's persuasion, Kel found herself being pulled by Neal towards Merric, who was pouring water on his head. He looked up at them, through a curtain of dripping red hair, squinting a little. He knew he'd seen her somewhere, was sure he recognised that face, but where?

Kel stood rather uncomfortably, looking every and nowhere, as Neal began calling groups of squires and knights over.

"Oy, Faleron, Esmond, Roald, Owen, you lot, come over here!"

Neal held her arm, as he showed her off to the group. He always has to do things with a flourish, doesn't he? Kel thought with growing amusement. It almost made her forget her nervousness.

Well, almost.

"Fellow squires and knights," he announced dramatically, and bowed deeply to the assembled crowd. "It is my deepest pleasure to present to you, Keladry of Mindelan, our former fellow page, my betrothed, and my wife-to-be!"

Kel curtsied as the mass of people simultaneously gaped at her. Neal almost sounds proud to be betrothed to me, she thought to herself, but that thought was immediately banished as the knights and squires immediately began to gasp and shout.

"Kel? Is that really you? We thought we'd never see you again!"

"Can you still use your pigsticker, glaive thingy?"

"You aren't going to be all girly now, are you? Please no!"

"How in Mithros' name did you end up betrothed to _Nea_l?"

Owen immediately began protesting against the betrothal, tugging on Kel's sleeve as he knelt down before her, eyes mischievous.

"Kel, you can't marry Neal, he's too ugly! Marry me instead!"

Kel grinned at the absurd statement, and Neal began to growl threateningly at Owen for the insult. Owen neatly sidestepped the cuff Neal aimed at him, and they ended up wrestling on the ground. Kel laughed, it seemed that in that respect, nothing really had changed. They were still immature boys. Everyone had gathered around the tussling pair, alternating between gleefully calling out encouragement or insults.

"Get him Neal, stuff his face with mud!"

"That was a good one, again, at his-!"

Everyone froze, as a rather unfortunately familiar voice called across the Court. Kel was in shock. Slowly they all turned around.

It couldn't be…

"Jesslaw! Stop that ridiculous display at once! Queenscove, I expected better of you! In front of a lady as well! Has my training taught you nothing?"

Owen immediately straightened, and bowed respectfully, as Lord Wyldon approached them, his face set into a deep frown. Kel wanted nothing more than to disappear. Oh no! Not Lord Wyldon! She couldn't meet him!

Neal had stood up as well, and when he spoke, it was in a surprisingly polite manner, not the drawling languor or flamboyant language he used to employ when talking to Lord Wyldon in the past.

"My Lord, forgive me for my behaviour. It was inappropriate."

Evidently it seemed even the Stump had managed to gain Neal's respect at last. It must have been during the Scanran War, Kel decided. Well, she almost had, until Neal discreetly winked at her.

He had not finished speaking. "My lord, may I reacquaint you with Keladry of Mindelan, my betrothed."

Kel dropped into an automatic curtsy; her hands trembling slightly as she slowly rose back up. Would Lord Wyldon think her a coward for forsaking what could have been hers? Or would he approve of the decision that he had wanted her to make, when she had seen him at the end of her probationary year? She looked up nervously, to see an unreadable expression on Lord Wyldon's face. His eyes were sharp, boring into hers, seemingly searching for something, but what? Eventually, after a very long pause, he seemed satisfied, and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"My lady."

Kel could feel the silence around her, as former page and training-master met again. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths for some kind of explosive confrontation between the two. Kel prepared herself for a verbal attack and waited.

No explosion came. He was silent, seemingly considering her again. A long minute passed, neither Kel nor Lord Wyldon breaking eye contact.

"You would have made a good knight, Keladry of Mindelan, " he finally remarked.

"Thank you, my lord," Kel answered, knowing surprise showed clearly on her face. Lord Wyldon complimenting her? She doubted she had ever received a single compliment from her stern former training master. It was unexpected, for him to compliment her _now? _She was in a state of shock. With one more nod, and one last scrutinising glance, Lord Wyldon walked away, leaving a crowd of stunned people behind him.

* * *

Please review! 


	7. The Presentation

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Six

* * *

Kel sat before her mirror, seemingly contemplating her reflection, though her mind was in reality far from that. Her first day at Court had gone surprisingly well, contrary to her expectations. After Lord Wyldon's surprising statement, she had felt rather shell-shocked. Even now, she could still barely believe that Lord Wyldon had complimented her! 

Neal had handled the situation surprisingly well. Kel knew surprises were apt to make him rant for days, in the past. This time, he had merely gaped at Lord Wyldon's retreating back, and said incredulously, "The Stump's going soft in his old age."

The others had been more forthcoming. Kel had found herself almost deafened by the screams of disbelief from her friends. In fact, she seemed to have spent her entire day with them, recounting on the past, and learning to know each other again. She only had taken her leave when it had been time for dinner.

Neal had been surprisingly civil to her again, showing her where to go for her meals, and pointing out the Queen's Ballroom, where she was to be presented, the next day. It had sent a shiver of nerves through Kel's body, at the prospect of descending that staircase, in front of hundreds of people, all who would recognise, by her name, that she was indeed the girl who had tried to be a knight.

Now Kel was sitting in her room, slowly unpinning her hair from the neat coil it had been in. She had sent the maids away for the moment, simply enjoying being alone, just for that moment. Three maids had been assigned to wait upon her, supposedly by Neal or Duke Baird.

Kel wondered if Lalasa, her maid from her page years was still at the palace, and resolved to seek her out in the days after her presentation. She had left Lalasa on rather hurried terms, and was not sure how the young woman had taken her mistress' sudden departure from Corus. Kel hoped that any awkwardness would be easily broached.

She ran a brush through her hair, and winced as it caught a snag. It was much longer than she had worn it as a child. Even before she had had it cut, in preparation for her knighthood, it had been just brushing her shoulders. Now it was waist length and nut-brown in colour, and in Kel's opinion, very cumbersome. Now, without the daughters of the Convent to stop her, she wondered if she should cut it.

Kel looked towards her dressing room, where her presentation gown hung. It had been made at the convent, from the finest Yamani cream silk. Unlike Court gowns, she did not need to worry about her presentation gown, as all maidens who were presented to Court were required to wear a simply cut dress in white and pastel shades, as a rule without additional adornment, embroidery or trimming. Kel's gown was empire-waisted, with a square neck and a long skirt that made Kel feel like she was floating rather than walking. She just hoped she wouldn't trip over it in her court presentation.

Imagine Lizzie's dress at the Netherfield Ball in the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice

* * *

Kel waited in the chamber leading to the stairs down to the Queen's Ballroom with all the other ladies waiting to be presented, feeling by the minute, more and more nervous. In fact, her curls had almost started quivering. It had taken all last night and most of this morning to tease her straight hair into neat ringlets, and Kel had smiled wryly as she looked in the mirror; from her appearance, one could have never guessed how infamous she was – from looks alone it seemed she was the epitome of a fashionable lady, ready to take her Court curtsy.

She would take her curtsy escorted by Neal, who had yet to appear. She surreptitiously glanced at all the other ladies waiting to go down. They all appeared as nervous as she was, perhaps even more so, tapping silk shod feet, or flicking open fans, and waving them with quick, jerky movements.

Kel espied Neal at the back of the room, as he finally appeared. His head was turning to and fro as he searched for her. At last, she managed to catch his eyes, and give a weak smile despite the fact she felt more like throwing up, than smiling. Not that that had anything to do with Neal. It was more to do with the fact she had to do this Court presentation thing.

Neal had finally managed to push his way across the room to where she stood.

"Nervous?" he asked breathlessly, as he made his way to stand beside her, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

Kel nodded, and reached up to straighten his collar, which was turned up. It reminded her of the days when she had done an appearance check before they had gone to the examinations. She concentrated on his collar, deliberately trying not to think about how close she was in proximity to him. It was surprising that such a small gesture could, for that moment seem so intimate, and make her cheeks flush with colour. When she took her hands away, her work finished, she was even more surprised to see spots of colour on Neal's cheeks as well.

"It's rather hot in here, isn't it?" he said rather lamely, and Kel had to clamp her lips shut to prevent herself from giggling hysterically. She had a suspicion that if she giggled, it would scare Neal out of the depths of his soul.

The set of people in front of them moved forward to the doors, and Kel and Neal found themselves being next in line.

"Ready?" Neal whispered quietly, taking her hand.

Kel swallowed and nodded, not daring to speak. This would be her introduction to Court and the official announcement of their betrothal. If Neal noticed the grip she had on his hand was somewhat tight, he chose not to comment.

The herald thumped his staff against the stone of the floor.

"Presenting Sir Nealan of Queenscove, son of His Grace, Duke Baird of Queenscove, and Keladry of Mindelan, daughter of the late Baron Piers of Mindelan."

Kel began to carefully descend the stairs as she had been taught, trying to make her movements graceful and steady, as though she was floating down the stairs. It was hard work, and she was sure that beads of perspiration were visible on her forehead.

At last, they made it safely onto the floor of the ballroom, and Neal guided her towards the foot of the throne, where she made her curtsy, sinking low to the ground as she had been taught. Neal knelt, and they rose only when King Jonathon acknowledged them.

Neal guided her to the side where most of the younger members of the Court were gathered, staring at the next pair to descend the staircase. Kel felt relieved it was over, and yet at the same time, a disappointed it hadn't been more dramatic.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Neal asked, as they found a space to stand in the crowded room.

Kel released her grip on his arm, laughing a little as Neal winced with pain. "It went better than expected, I suppose, though I'm sorry about your arm. I didn't mean to only it was-"

Neal raised his hand to stop her. "Don't worry. At least you never had to escort Lady Doanna of Fenrigh down, she practically broke my arm in half, she was clutching it so tightly."

Kel had heard of Lady Doanna's reputation in the Court from the Convent, a rather haughty girl with a sharp tongue, who had managed, despite her considerable dowry and looks, to not get betrothed after eight years at Court. Kel was rather glad that Neal hadn't liked her. She laughed along with Neal, feeling in that moment, quite content just to laugh and not think about anything else.

* * *

**Author's note: **Lots of you have asked why Kel hasn't kept up her Yamani training. To be honest, I hadn't thought a lot about it. Probably her room at the convent was too small to do glaive exercises in – and she would have been spotted elsewhere and reported. With her father's death and the family problems they were going under, I don't think Kel would have wanted to cause even more trouble. 


	8. Dinner with the Duke

**Betrothed to Him **

Chapter Seven

* * *

Kel walked briskly down the corridor, her plait swinging behind her, feeling for that moment, quite happy. Her greatest fear, the Court presentation, had passed, almost a distant memory. Now she was set on task of the moment, to find her former maid Lalasa. Enquires to her maids about Lalasa had achieved nothing; so now Kel was looking for someone she thought would know. She knocked on one of the doors, in the Nond apartments of the palace.

Tian answered the door immediately. Kel recognised her instantly.

"I beg your pardon milady," the maid said politely. "Lady Adalia is at Nond, if it was her you wished to speak to."

She made as if to close the door, but Kel stopped her, placing one had against the frame.

"Tian. I'm Adie's youngest sister - Keladry? I'm looking for Lalasa, and thought you might know her whereabouts."

Tian gasped in astonishment at Kel.

"My lady, you look so different from last! Why, even your sisters cannot compare to you now!"

Kel waved the compliment aside, looking embarrassed. Of course she didn't rival her sisters in looks – what on earth was Tian thinking? It had been drummed into her over the years at the convent and by her sisters-in-law that she was nothing more than passable in terms of appearance. "Never mind my looks Tian. Do you know where Lalasa is?"

"Why yes, milady," Tian answered. "She accepted a commission from the Queen to become the Royal Dressmaker when you left. She missed you greatly, milady. Lalasa owns her own shop now, I'll show you where."

Kel was pleased and astounded that shy Lalasa could have made so much progress over the past five years. She followed Tian to the tailor's section of the palace, where Kel remembered receiving her page's uniform, so many years ago. So many memories, Kel thought ruefully. It was amazing how much was still stored in her mind, ready to be unleashed with the appropriate trigger.

Tian left her at the entrance, and Kel found herself in the middle of a crowd of noblewomen, with Lalasa sat at the back, sewing industriously. She looked different, Kel thought wistfully. If only she had been there to see her change.

Somehow, through sheer determination, Kel managed to push past to the back of the room, and cleared her throat uncertainly.

"Lalasa?"

Lalasa looked up at the sound of her voice, a little crinkle in her brow. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she immediately cried out, "Lady Kel! You're back!"

She leapt up, knocking her work onto the ground, and enveloped Kel in a tight hug.

"I wanted to see how you were," Kel said awkwardly, "to see if you're alright."

Lalasa's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, my lady, you're too kind. If it hadn't been for you, I would have never gotten my commission. And the self-defence you taught me! It helped me so much, my lady, you would scarcely believe!"

Kel grinned, a little embarrassed at the stares they were attracting from Lalasa's other customers. She supposed they would have to find somewhere more private if they were to talk. An idea suddenly came into Kel's head.

"Actually, Lalasa, I was wondering if you could help me with something-"

* * *

Kel had felt satisfied with her day's work. Lalasa had seemed happy, and Kel had been surprised at how confident she had seemed, no longer the timid maid who hid every time a stranger entered Kel's room. Kel had explained her dilemma with her Court gowns, and Lalasa had been delighted at the commission. Her first gown would be ready in a week, just in time for the first Midwinter ball.

Kel, as would have been expected, had found the selecting of fabrics, trimmings cuts and styles to be very tiresome after a while, and left that choice to Lalasa's capable hands. It appeared that she had even known about her betrothal to Neal, being one of the many seamstresses to work on the wedding gown.

Kel had not been able to extract even a peep of information about her wedding dress; Lalasa had been adamant she was to wait until her first fitting. In a strange way, Kel was almost looking forward to seeing her wedding dress, which was absurd really, as she wasn't exactly looking forward to getting married, was she?

Kel would be meeting Duke Baird, her future father-in-law, that evening, for dinner. The invitation had arrived that morning, and Kel had expected that it would happen sooner or later. It would also be an opportunity to voice any concerns she felt about the marriage, as Neal would not be present.

However, Kel didn't really find the idea of complaining to Neal's father particularly feasible. Duke Baird had always been kind and civil to her, and it wasn't as if she had anything she could really complain about. Everyone had to put up with arranged marriages, even Prince Roald and Princess Kalasin. In a way, she was luckier than most in her marriage, Neal was neither abnormally deformed nor shockingly old, and he was a friend. She was glad that at least in that aspect, her marriage would be acceptable.

She rifled through her meagre selection of gowns, wondering what to wear. Never, before coming to Court, had Kel worried so much about clothes. She wondered if she could ask Tian, if she could borrow some of her sister's old dresses, before deciding that would probably not be such a good idea – remember the quarrels Adie and Oranie had in the past over inadvertent sharing of clothes.

Kel began to pace the room. Since when had she gotten so agitated? True, she had lost the Yamani mask she had relied upon, but Kel at the convent had still been relatively good at concealing her feelings in front of everyone – enough to hide her hurt and anger from those sharper tongues and biting criticism that followed her where she went.

She needed to calm down, Kel decided at last. A rational mind would be needed tonight. Picking up the first dress she had tried on, she hurried to change.

* * *

Two hours later that a thoroughly disgruntled Keladry of Mindelan stood outside on the door to the Duke's suite. She still wasn't happy with her appearance. Her hair was frizzy, having partly lost its curl from the day before, but not quite. In the end, there had not been time to do anything to it, and she had simply knotted it up and into a net of pearls, and hoped that was enough. 

A footman opened the door, and Duke Baird came forward to welcome his to-be daughter-in-law.

"Ah, Keladry," he smiled warmly, "It is good to see you again. Come in, and make yourself comfortable!"

Kel felt her bad mood melting away in the face of the Duke's good humouredness, and took a seat, smiling genuinely, as she greeted the Duke.

"Thank you for inviting me, Your Grace. Neal expressed after the presentation that you would wish to speak to me."

The Duke smiled at the mention of his son. "Yes, Neal was correct. Keladry, I want you to understand that even though I am terribly fond of my son, I will understand if other people are not so inclined. He can be – difficult sometimes."

Kel knew that the 'other people' Duke Baird was referring to meant mainly her, and she took steps to reassure the Duke,

"Your Grace, I am fond of Neal, but as a friend only. The betrothal was rather unexpected, I do admit, but I think it is not the most terrible thing to have happened."

Duke Baird nodded. "Yes, the betrothal. I had wanted to talk to you about that, Keladry. Your brother Anders, I believe, was concerned with you making a good match, am I right?"

Kel nodded, and the Duke continued.

"You may have wondered why I agreed to this – betrothing my heir to the youngest daughter of a Baron, of a disgraced family no less."

Kel stiffened a little at his words, but then relaxed, as she realised the Duke was not trying to jibe her about her family misfortunes. He was only stating facts.

"I know Neal very well, Keladry. He wouldn't want to marry just some Court beauty, no matter how much poetry he writes about them. He wants to marry someone who'll understand him, who puts up with his fits and philosophical ravings, but at the same time, knows when he gets too out-of-hand. You understand him, Keladry, more than any other young lady does, because you've seen him for what he truly is. I was not looking for some young heiress for Neal, but someone he could be happy with, even if it wasn't love. Do you understand this reasoning?"

Kel nodded again, as the Duke continued to speak.

"I didn't tell Neal about my choice. Maybe it was a mistake, going behind his back; I believe his reaction must have been much the same as yours, am I correct? Yes, I believe I am. Your brother had your best interests at heart. I was acquainted with some of your potential suitors. Do you recognise their names? Lord Martin of Meron? Sir Ansil of Groten? Voelden of Tirrsmont?"

Kel inwardly shuddered. They were all at least twice her age, grumpy and deeply conservative. Goddess, what was Anders thinking? Outwardly, her voice was calm as she replied.

"Yes, your Grace. I've heard of them."

The Duke nodded. "My dear, I hope you understand, this betrothal was not just for Neal, it was for you as well. I would love to have you as my daughter."

Kel stared at the Duke, wide-eyed. Yes, she supposed Neal was better than any of Anders' other choices, but why did he expect her to be so happy? It was almost as though he believed them to somehow be the perfect match.

Kel gave the most unladylike snort. They would be companions, and that would be that. It would be unreasonable to expect love as well.

Kel suddenly realised what she had done. The coughing fit that followed was an unsuccessful attempt to disguise it. Her face turned scarlet, as she realised how rude she had been before the Duke.

"Forgive me for my inattention your Grace," she stumbled out, and then looked down at her lap, embarrassed by her unrefined display.

Neal's father smiled kindly at the agitated Kel, watching with mild interest the myriad of expressions that flitted faintly across her face. He spoke gently.

"One day, you will understand perfectly, my dear."

* * *

**Author's note: **Sorry about the longer wait that usual...I was moping about my appalling performance in my exams 


	9. The Wedding Dress

**Betrothed to Him **

Chapter Eight

* * *

It was a week until the first Midwinter Ball, and at last Kel was going to the first fitting of her wedding gown. She expected it to be something in the colours of Mindelan or Queenscove, very elaborate, and very uncomfortable.

Her sisters' wedding dresses hovered in the back of her mind. Pragmatically, there mother had said it was a waste of material, making a dress to be worn just once, and their gowns had been designed for future wear in mind. The material had been pretty, but sensible, and within financial reason.

Kel's dress however, would be different. It was for the wedding – purely the wedding, and would likely never be worn again after that. Kel wondered who was paying for such an extravagant expenditure. Had Anders managed to dig up some spare reserves of coin in the Mindelan coffers? Was some of her already meagre dowry going towards this? Or was it Duke Baird who took responsibility for the costs?

The short walk down to the palace tailors took longer that she anticipated; snow had fallen the night before, and the roads had turned to slush. Kel staggered over the treacherous grounds as her pattens slid repeatedly against the slippery ground.

Lalasa was waiting in anticipation with enthusiastic words of greeting, as a bedraggled Kel stepped into her shop, and was ushered to an area at the back, where the dress was.

It was hanging up when Kel saw it, against the frame that the dressmakers used in order to sew it into the correct shape. At the moment it was pinned together, but it was the most beautiful thing Kel had ever seen.

Kel was generally not the gasping type of girl when she came across a lovely gown, but here she could not help but gasp with awe as Lalasa held the dress up proudly for her to see, the work of months of painstaking toil.

It was neither in Mindelan colours, nor in the colours of Queenscove, but a pale delicate green. Tiny seed pearls were embroidered across the bodice, amidst beautifully intricate needlework in silver thread that subtly shimmered in the light.

Kel ran her hands reverently over the hard work of so many people, marvelling at the exquisite beauty of the finished effect. How much money had gone into the making of this dress, Kel simply could not imagine. Lalasa looked towards Kel expectantly. It seemed that now, she only had to try it.

* * *

Kel tried to hold still as Lalasa, her mouth full of pins, made tiny adjustments here and there. She strained her head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse in the mirror, but regretted it almost immediately as a particularly sharp pin poked her in the arm. Kel winced in pain. 

"Hold still, my lady," Lalasa reprimanded.

It seemed an age before Lalasa finally took her hands away, her mouth pin free, looking extremely satisfied with the finished effect. She gestured for Kel to look at herself.

Kel paused, hesitating for just a moment, and took a deep breath. She didn't know why exactly, but the thought of seeing herself in this dress had suddenly filled her with unimaginable apprehension. Slowly, she turned round to face the mirror.

It was a stranger who stared back at her from the mirror, a beautiful stranger with generations of high lineage to her name. The gown was made from the softest and lightest of expensive fabrics, pulled in at the bodice, but loose in a glorious fall at the skirt. The pearls and silver embroidery glimmered subtly, and the soft colour of the gown gave Kel's complexion the pale delicacy of fine porcelain. Kel could not help but sigh with admiration, as she stroked the material. Never had she seen a gown that suited her as well as this one did.

"Lalasa," she breathed in reverence, "It's perfect. The most exquisite, wonderful, nothing really describes it well enough!"

Lalasa evidently thought so too. She wiped her eyes, and blew her nose hard, overcome with emotion. A very sentimental person, the sight of Kel in her wedding dress had proven too much.

"Oh my lady, even the Great Mother would be comparable to you right now," she cried in a rather watery voice, "And to think you were once just like one of those boys, always in breeches."

Kel laughed as an image of her jousting in her wedding gown popped into her mind. She bent down to gently embrace her friend and thank her, taking care to not poke her with the pins.

"I will treat this dress with as much reverence as the Crown Jewels," she said, a little tearful herself. Kel realised what the apprehension she had been feeling earlier was. The dress had made Kel realise just how real her betrothal was, and how soon her marriage was going to be. It was looming up before her, and as the Midwinter celebrations drew closer, the nearer her new life-to-be followed.

Kel wasn't sure there was really anything –despite the beautiful dress- that could make her want to go to her wedding. She took one last look at her reflection, still finding it difficult to believe it was really herself that she saw, and resolutely turned away.

* * *

**Author's Note:** For Kel's wedding dress, imagine Arwen's green dress at Aragon's coronation in the film The Return of the King. Apologies for the shortness of this chapter – I've been extending the others by mashing several chapters together, but I thought this was very sweet on its own. Hugs, thanks,and a big cyber chocolate bar to the person who nominated me for the Circle of Heroes Awards! I'm very honoured. 


	10. The First Midwinter Ball

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Nine

* * *

Kel woke up to a beautiful morning, sighed, remembered it was the first Midwinter Ball that evening, and flopped back onto her bed again.

Her stomach was tight with nerves at the thought. The only official court event she had attended had been her own presentation, and Neal had been there to guide her through. This time, Kel would be going alone, and she was terrified.

Court society tended to ignore her at best, and Kel generally preferred it that way. Not many wanted to mingle with the girl who had once tried for her knighthood – but neither did they want to anger the influential Queenscove family. Thankfully, Kel had not yet met someone really unpleasant, but it was only a matter a time. It was clearly evident that many still disapproved, and every mistake she made was reflected twice in their eyes.

Kel had not yet met Joren again. Discreet enquiries had revealed he was on border patrol, and for that she was thankful. However, the Midwinter festivities saw an influx of young knights taking leave to come to celebrate at Court, and each day, Kel hoped that Joren would not arrive.

Kel stared up at the ceiling, imagining what the confrontation would be like when it would inevitably happen. Would there be physical violence involved? Kel shuddered at the thought. With five years of lost weaponry practice, it was unavoidable that she would lose. Badly. Immediately, she made a resolution to begin her glaive exercises again, if she still remembered them.

Where was her glaive anyway?

She thought about how in the past a quick pattern dance had always been the trick to settling jangling nerves. If it worked now, it would help her to forget about Joren.

Her glaive had been her solstice during the first few weeks at the convent. Somehow she had managed to smuggle it in with her, without Anders or the Daughters realising. Gradually though, it became too risky to be seen with it out, and the old habit of pattern dances gradually wore away.

Kel got out of bed, and dragged out her trunks from where they lay underneath. She dug through them, searching through each one thoroughly. Finally, when she had just begun to give up hope, she found it, rolled up in old clothes. Kel unfolded the clothes, and began to take them out, but before she could remove the glaive, a flash of red and gold caught her eyes. Hands trembling, she shook out the red tunic, and gold shirt - pieces of her old page's uniform.

Kel never thought that she might still have these clothes from so long ago. They were separate in a distant part of her memory, cherished and missed. Kel turned her attention to the other clothes that she had used to protect the Yamani weapon. There were shirts, tunics, practice clothes, formal clothes, even her old knife belt.

Kel touched everything gently, the memories flooding around her in a bittersweet flood. She closed her eyes: there was Neal, tipping water onto Cleon, they were studying together in Neal's room, she was new, and Neal showing her around, bruised and despondent, she was talking to Neal after her first failed attempt at tilting. Neal. Every memory was linked to him. He was in each memory in some way – somehow his presence everywhere.

The sun was already high in the sky, hours later, but Kel still sat there, motionless, lost in memory.

* * *

Kel looked at the dress her maid held up. It was her first Court gown, finished, and readied for her to wear tonight at the first Midwinter Ball. Swathed in an aura of velvet luxury, every inch of it was all Lalasa's proud work.

Kel peered at herself in the mirror, examining herself critically. She was dressed only in her shift, pale blue, and richly embroidered at the sleeves and train where it would peep out from her gown. The maids had insisted that she wear cosmetic paints, and after much bullying on their part, Kel had reluctantly acquiesced. The barest touches had been used, as was fashionable, and Kel was on the whole rather pleased with the effect, which enhanced her natural appearance, rather than creating a false mask.

Kel knew she would need to prove herself to the court tonight, at least those who would be watching her like a hawk, waiting for her first mistake. She carefully slipped on the dress, smiling at the rustle the rich fabric made, and inspected her appearance one last time.

Satisfied that she looked as well as it was possible, Kel picked up her fan and opened her door. Neal would not be accompanying her tonight, having a previous commitment to attend to, but he had promised her would try to be there later. Kel looked forward to hours of boredom until her would arrive. She did not know any of the courtiers well enough yet, and Kel was not sure how well trying to mingle would go down with the more conservative members of the Court.

Kel discreetly entered the ballroom, without being announced, and stationed herself in a corner where she tried her best to be invisible. It would seem she would have a long evening ahead of her.

* * *

It was hot and stifling in the Queen's Ballroom, where hours later, Kel could be seen sitting off to one side, waving her fan before her to get more air. She muffled another yawn, and wished Neal would come. This Midwinter Ball was thoroughly boring. Whoever thought these balls were fun were mad.

"Looking for someone?" a female voice whispered in her ear.

Kel turned; startled that someone was actually talking to her. Lady Uline of Hannalof, no HaMinch Kel corrected herself, smiled at her, dimples showing in each pink cheek.

"Well," Kel responded, "I don't seem to know many people here yet my lady – you see I'm new and I've only just arrived."

Lady Uline nodded sympathetically, and took a seat next to Kel.

"Yes, I was the same when I first came here. No one talked to me for months until Kieran took pity on me, and the two Mindelan sisters, but I knew them from the convent. You know, I'm sure I've seen you before, but I can't seem to remember where. Was it at the convent perhaps?"

She evidently didn't recognise Kel, the dismayed girl realised. How many people was that now? Fifteen? Thirty? Sixty?

"No, Lady Uline, we met when I was a page here at the palace," Kel said evenly. "I'm Keladry of Mindelan."

Lady Uline's eyes widened as she took in this piece of information.

"Why Keladry," she cried, looking approvingly at Kel, "You have grown up splendidly. I missed the Court Introductions; otherwise I would have looked for you immediately!"

Kel blushed at this, looking rather embarrassed. She felt Lady Uline was rather being too kind to her. Meanwhile, Uline had drawn her arm with hers, and was now talking with an air of confidentiality.

"So Keladry," she said, her eyes dancing, "You must tell me all. And do call me Uline, I can't hold with titles."

Keladry began recounting the years at the Convent since she had left Court, and Uline nodded along as she spoke. Kel felt rather glad for someone to talk to, it seemed she hadn't had a decent conversation for months. She knew Uline would listen and understand, but some reason, Kel didn't mention the betrothal, it seemed too personal to tell someone she barely knew. When she had finished, Lady Uline had begun to look rather mischievous.

"Would you like me to show you the eligible bachelors of Court, Keladry? After all, you must be looking for a husband as well now? I'm sure you must be curious-"

"Well, it's very kind of you, Uline," Kel said awkwardly, "But I'm already betrothed."

"Really?" Lady Uline looked surprised. "Why that is fast! Most girls take a year at least! Who is it?"

"Me," Neal announced, as he appeared before them, having overheard the last part of the conversation.

Kel jumped with shock. "How did you just appear like that? Well never mind. Neal, may I present to you Lady Uline of HaMinch. Uline, this is Sir Nealan of Queenscove."

Neal bowed and Uline stood to curtsy. Kel recalled the days when Neal had had a massive crush on Uline, writing soppy lines of romantic poetry, which he had never sent her. It made her feel rather odd, remembering his crushes and infatuations with those beautiful women he would never have. She was unreasonably glad that Uline was already married, without any idea why.

Uline had drifted off shortly, making a weak excuse, and darting Kel a significant look, leaving the two alone together. Kel looked enquiringly at Neal.

"Do you think she did that deliberately?" she asked him.

Neal shrugged carelessly, and sat down. "Probably."

He seemed to have lost interest in Uline, and they watched the dancers move through the elegant pavane to the music played in the gallery. Kel was mesmerized; at the Convent, she had been concentrating too much on moving with light grace and not tripping to fully appreciate the beauty of it. The dance finished all too soon, and Kel turned back towards Neal, her eyes shining.

Neal was grinning at her, as the strains for the next dance began. He held out his hand to Kel. "May I have the honour of this dance?" he asked, still grinning but his green eyes enquiring.

Kel smiled, and took it. They both stood up together.

"Yes."


	11. Discussion and Decisions

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Ten

* * *

After the ball, Kel and Uline had formed a friendship, and Kel had been very glad of it. She was still good friends with her former page companions, but the bonds between them had lessened. They had the commitments of their knighthoods to fulfil, and were either too busy in the practice courts or away on patrol to be present for much of the time. 

Kel missed her friends, but after five years without their company, she missed them rather less than expected. As for Neal, Kel couldn't decide whether to be irritated or glad that he made more of an effort than the others to spend time with her. Though, she thought, he was the one betrothed to her so there was the added sense of obligation he probably felt.

Kel had been sitting in her rooms with Uline a week after the ball. She tended to spend mornings now just talking with her new friend; unlike the girls at the Convent, Uline was genuinely nice. However, she seemed to have taken an unfortunate interest in Kel's betrothal, trying to persuade Kel to spend more time with Neal, get to know each other better, and let certain feelings develop.

When Kel explained her doubts about the ever-nearing marriage, Uline simply waved them aside.

"Nonsense! Anyone can see you two are perfect for one another!" she exclaimed.

Kel was astounded. Uline had to be the most optimistic person she had ever talked to, save Neal's father of course. What did she mean?

"How can we be perfect for each other?" Kel asked in confusion. "We're not even in love! Neal's more like a brother to me than a prospective husband!"

Uline had shaken her head, smiling gleefully. "Oh I'm certain he's like a brother now. Kieran was too when I was betrothed to him, but wait a year, and everything will have changed. Only the Goddess may know how much it changed between Kieran and I! Anyone can see you care for each other! Why not let it develop into something more?"

Kel gaped at Uline, not knowing what to make of that rather shocking statement. Neal cared for her? Surely not in that kind of way!

"Impossible!" she said adamantly. "No, Uline, I can't see how that can happen."

Uline had spoken more gently upon seeing the look upon her younger friend's face. Kel was being difficult about this.

"Think back to the first Midwinter ball, Keladry. What was it like when you were dancing together?"

"Well, we didn't really talk," Kel began slowly, "But it seemed right, I don't why, everyone else was talking-"

"Exactly," Uline said triumphantly. "You didn't need to talk."

"But-" Kel had protested, "Why?"

But Uline would say no more. "Think, Keladry," she urged, "It will come to you; you just need to discover it yourself."

Now Kel was sitting in her room, still thinking over the conversation of the morning. She realised what Uline had been trying to say, and the answer gave her mixed feelings. She didn't know what to feel, elated or frightened. The thought of marriage was terrifying enough, but somehow, with what Uline was insinuating added to it, it seemed all the more daunting. It was just Uline, she decided in the end, Uline who had been giving her these thoughts. Kel resolved not to think about the intricacies of her marriage any more. Well, at least, not for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Kel woke up the next day feeling thoroughly miserable. Her head ached, and she managed to snap at the maids three times before exiting the rooms. After her breakfast, the headache had eased, and Kel felt thoroughly contrite for having been so bad-tempered. She sat down by one of the stone fountains in the gardens, and dabbled her hand in the bubbling water, the coldness refreshing her dispiritedness. Her resolve to think no more about Uline's words had been forgotten.

Kel wondered, and not for the first time, if maybe she did want more from her marriage than mere companionship. But was that kind of marriage possible with Neal? She didn't know, but deep down in her mind, a part of her brain told her that was what she wanted. Then Kel realised - it was no good. Even if she did end up having feelings for Neal, there was no guarantee he would return them. Did he even like girls like her?

It was here that Neal found her, sighing as she thought, the hand in the water forgotten, as she traipsed through mind and memory, lost in the thought of her misery and indecisiveness.

She started when Neal spoke. "Feeling bad?"

"About what?" Kel asked eventually, still half in her reverie.

Neal looked seriously at her.

"The wedding."

The two words had the instantaneous effect of jerking Kel immediately out of her half dream state, and back into reality.

"What?" she stared up at him. "No, of course not, Neal. Whatever gave you that idea?"

How in Mithros' name had he guessed her thoughts? It was unnerving.

Neal considered his next words carefully, but his eyes never left hers, shaded by his hair they were murky, unreadable.

"Remember that evening you spent with Father? After you left, I talked to him. I wanted to know what you really felt about the whole business – and I know you're not exactly thrilled. I understand that. But we came to an agreement. I don't understand what's changed."

Kel looked up at him. "I don't know," she managed to say at last, "I just don't know. I wish I did, but – oh – I'm so confused about everything."

Neal joined her by the fountain, looking up at a distant spot in the sky.

"You're not alone in feeling that way, Kel," he confessed, "Most of the time I don't know what to make of it either. Father's happy about the betrothal, but why, I can't understand at all."

Kel smiled dryly. "Yes, I was given that impression too," she admitted. "It's almost as though he thinks we're meant to be together - "

She stopped talking. No. She had _not_ just said that. Now Neal was going to get all sorts of ideas about her feelings, when she hadn't a clue how she felt!

Neal looked at her.

"Do you think we are? Meant to be together?"

His green eyes were intense, and Kel knew he was being completely serious. She swallowed. How was she supposed to reply to such an astounding question? She couldn't focus herself to feel just one emotion about it - sometimes it was as though she wanted this marriage to happen, but sometimes, she hated it, hated Anders for making her go through it.

Neal was waiting for her to answer.

"I – I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe, we – we could try." She looked anywhere but Neal.

This time he was silent beside her - silent for so long that Kel turned to him, only to meet his penetrating stare, as he looked into her face, trying to detect something there. What was he looking for, she wondered.

"You want to try?" he asked, his voice oddly suppressed, "To see if we really should be?"

Kel felt her answer had been a mistake. Neal sounded as though Mithros himself had dropped his shield on his head.

"Well we don't have to," she said hastily, "If you don't want to, that is."

Neal grinned, "Of course I'll try," he said lightly, but Kel could feel his sincerity. She also overheard what he whispered softly under his breath.

"I'll try with all my heart."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update - lots of exciting stuff has been happening recently, and I've been getting a bit distracted.


	12. Setting Things Straight

**Betrothed to Him**

Chapter Eleven

* * *

After that rather surprising talk with Neal, Kel began to wonder how she would try to develop feelings for him; after all, no one at the convent had ever taught you how fall in love with someone. No, they had taught you how to make someone else fall in love with you – though somehow, Kel doubted Neal would fall for tricks of flattery, flirting and revealing dresses, especially when it would be her.

Kel groaned in frustration; she hadn't really talked about this thoroughly enough with Neal. They had decided to meet more often, and get to know each other more, but Kel wondered if that really was enough to spark a relationship with someone she knew she would have to potentially spend the rest of her life with.

Kel nibbled the end of her pen, deciding she would write her thoughts down, and see what sense she could make of them. She knew she liked him. She knew he liked her - but beyond that, was there really anything else? Kel remembered that moment in the room before her Presentation, and wrote it down. Was there anything else?

Kel scanned rapidly down her notes, deciding she would talk to Uline as soon as she could; it was far too complicated for her to deal with on her own. A mass of words confronted her from her - barely legible in the haste they had been written. Kel sighed, and wrote a note to Uline, inviting her to afternoon tea the next day.

* * *

Kel sipped gingerly at the scalding mixture that shifted about in her teacup, and looked nervously at Uline, as she studied Kel's pieces of paper, absent-mindedly chewing a biscuit. She looked up into Kel's expectant eyes.

"Well?" Kel asked pleadingly, "Can you make anything of it?"

Kel had already explained about the agreement she and Neal had come to the day before, and Uline had been readily willing to help her friend.

"Well…" Uline said, scanning the page again, "I don't think you really need these, Keladry."

Seeing Kel's confused expression, Uline elaborated.

"They have told you what has happened, as of yet, but what you need to be mainly focused with is what happens next," she said, nibbling another biscuit. "Mmm, these are very good, did you know that? Anyway, I think you should focus on the getting to know each other better aspect. Let things take their natural course. It's already heading that way, and besides, I can't make it happen for you, much as I'd love to. You have to make it happen yourself."

Kel choked on her tea, dropping the delicate teacup back onto its saucer with a clatter.

"What?" she said incredulously. "I have to do all of it by myself?"

Uline smiled. "Now, I didn't say that, did I, Keladry? I can't create the relationship itself for you. However, I can help you with helping to create it."

Kel smiled gratefully. "Thank you. You know it means a great deal to me, Uline."

Uline had smiled mischievously, tucking into another biscuit.

"Keep on thinking that way Keladry, and you'll be in married bliss in no time!"

Kel wished Uline hadn't mentioned marriage. Her stomach rolled about uncomfortably at the thought of it still. Picking up her teacup, Kel took a sip, hoping it would calm her. She supposed she would have to face it eventually.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter - think of it as a transition chappie, before all the exciting stuff begins to happen!


	13. He's Back

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Twelve**

**

* * *

**Kel, remembering the agreement she had made with Neal, decided to try and spend more time with him at the next ball. The dances went agreeably well, but the room seemed too crowded, and the place so filled with prying ears; that the two stepped outside, into the moonlit gardens, where they could talk in more privacy. 

"My tarnished reputation is going to take a turn for the worse," Kel said, laughing a little, as they walked upon the dew-laden grass. "Walking out unchaperoned? I imagine the gossips will have plenty to talk about."

Neal surveyed her for a moment then spoke. "Are they bothering you at all, Kel? Because it really wouldn't be much bother for me to set them straight, if that's what you want."

Kel looked up at him, surprised. "Thank you" she said softly, "Though it would probably be better if I tried myself. Hiding behind you would only make them gossip worse."

Neal's eyes darkened. "Mithros," he muttered in annoyance, "What on earth do they find to gossip everyday, anyway?"

Kel laughed, and linked arms with him, a movement that seemed completely natural at that moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but another voice spoke before her, out of the darkness. Kel turned as dread drenched her - to see a very familiar blond haired man, glaring disdainfully at the two.

"Should have known you would be fraternising with that piece of filth!" Joren of Stone Mountain spat out.

Kel looked away, letting go of Neal's arm. She was unwilling to let him see how much Joren's harsh words had hurt her. After expecting this confrontation for so long, it was amazing how unprepared she was for this when it had finally arrived.

Joren's words continued to sting, as he continued, speaking only to Neal, pointedly ignoring her. Kel understood the insinuation; it was as though she was so low in his eyes that she was beneath his notice.

Burning anger replaced hurt. Kel determinedly clenched her teeth, and waited for him to finish. How he had come to court unnoticed passed her train of thought, but she disregarded it for now. He was here, and she was going to have to accept it – no – she was going to do something about it.

"Marrying her, are we, Queenscove?" Joren taunted. "Is that why you were friends with her as a page? So you could have her whenever you wanted?"

Neal hissed with anger, his green eyes narrowed with hate. "Bury your filthy lies with the Graveyard Hag, Joren, where you belong."

Joren's eyes were mocking as Neal rose to Kel's defence. He circled his foe, stance ready for physical violence.

"She's a slut, Queenscove, don't deny it. And the whole Court knows."

Kel's back stiffened. Her normally dreamy eyes blazed with fury as she whipped around to face him, all thoughts of reason dissolved.

"How dare you!" she breathed. "I have done nothing, nothing to offend your _poor,_ _wounded, pride_." Kel bit out the last three words, inflicting every inch of sarcasm she owned upon them.

"I left didn't I?" she continued, words pouring out of her mouth, an angry verbal torrent she had no power over. "I gave up my knighthood, against my own wishes! My father is dead, the Yamani Alliance fell, and my family lost favour with the Crown! I am a weak, defenceless, _girl_ again. There is nothing left that you could possibly still hold resentment against me! But you still do hold resentment. What could you possibly still have against me?"

Joren's eyes were cold as he surveyed the angry girl.

"It is your mere presence that offends me," he said, his voice bored. "It seems you've gone to the opposite extreme with your emotions, Lump. You're no longer one of your precious Yamanis."

He paused momentarily, as though deep in thought, and then suddenly he spoke again, his voice louder and stronger than it had been earlier.

"You are marrying into one of the most powerful families of the realm. You! A jumped up merchant nobody! You should have died, if I had had my way."

"What do you mean?" Kel whispered.

Joren grinned, and a strange twisted expression overcame his face, filled with insane cruelty. For the first time in her entire life, Kel found herself truly afraid of Joren of Stone Mountain.

"I wanted to rid you from the start, Mindelan. At first I thought Lord Wyldon would do the right thing – and throw you out. He was a honourable man, forced to act against his own will by the Crown. You stayed. I understood that no amount of bullying was going to get you to leave – so I changed my tactics. I played against your _weaker_, _emotional _nature. Who do you think sent the sickness that killed your father?"

"Who?" Kel whispered, although the answer was already there, deep in her heart, and she dreaded it.

Joren laughed.

"Who else but me? No one knows the magical gift I have, not even my father. It worked to my advantage, didn't it, Keladry? You left and never came back. Tortall will not be tainted by those like you. You can try to tell anyone you like, but I assure you, no one will believe your pathetic story."

Kel's knees were growing weak, but Neal held on to her, preventing her from falling.

"You won't get away with this…" she gasped. "I'll make sure of it."

"Oh I doubt that," Joren said complacently, "But this is certainly not the end. I'm not just doing this for the good of Tortall – if you must know. I mean to destroy you, and everything that you hold dear."

And with a manic gleam in his cold blue eyes, Joren of Stone Mountain retreated back into the shadows of the night.

* * *

Neal held her close, as Kel shivered uncontrollably. She couldn't stop. She couldn't banish the terrifying images of Joren from her mind. Her father had died because of her. Because of her _ambitions_, Piers of Mindelan had succumbed to a magical illness than no healer had been able to heal, sent by a sorcerer whose gift no one was aware of. Joren had meant banish Kel, and in doing so, he had killed her father. 

"We'll get him convinced," Neal whispered comfortingly, "This won't pass unpunished."

Kel's eyes were bright, though not one tear flowed down her dry cheeks.

"He killed my father," she whispered. "He killed him – just because he wanted to get rid of me."

Neal stared fiercely into Kel's eyes, willing her to look up and believe what he said.

"It isn't your fault," he said forcefully. "Joren should have been dealt with, even before that happened."

Kel looked up in confusion, wondering about the rather ambiguous statement.

"What do you mean, should have?" she asked, her voice a little unsteady.

Neal looked rather uncomfortable.

"Even as a page, then a squire, he'd always been accused of a lot," he said finally. "Assault, armed robbery, rape, you know. One time there was madness even. Every time, Lord Burchard paid a great deal of money to bribe the court into silence, and an unfair verdict. The Law Courts of Tortall are flawed, and you know that already."

Kel nodded, and Neal continued.

"Then came the Ordeal of Knighthood." He shuddered, memories of his own ordeal coming back. "We suspect Joren didn't take it. No one supervises the Vigil or the Ordeal except the priests and two knights. Priests can't tell the difference between us, and knights can be easily bribed."

Kel stared at Neal, eyes wide. "So – you're saying, Joren is a fraud?"

Neal nodded, his unruly hair overshadowing his serious eyes.

"Remember Vinson of Genlith? He went into the Chamber, and came out, inflicted with every hurt he had ever given. I'm sure if evil like Joren had gone in, he would have died."

Kel swallowed.

"He talked about a magical gift –" she said haltingly. "He said he used it on – my _father…_can that be true? Can Joren really be a – _sorcerer?"_

Neal shook his head.

"I don't know," he said finally, but she saw his eyes – and that moment, Kel was more afraid of Joren of Stone Mountain than she had ever been before.

She shut her eyes, burying her face in Neal's shoulder. The expression that appeared on Neal's face, had she seen it, would have dispelled any anxiety she felt had she seen it, but she didn't. She only heard what Neal said, as he patted her gently on the back.

"Let's go back inside. We've been out here too long."


	14. Unexpected

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Kel sat before Duke Turomot, the Chief Magistrate, her hands tightly clasped on her lap. Neal was beside her, recounting the events of the evening to the Duke, who listened carefully, his face growing sterner and sterner with each word. Eventually he turned to Kel.

"And you can verify that what Sir Nealan has said is correct, Keladry of Mindelan?"

Kel looked up to meet the Magistrate's eyes. "Yes," she said clearly.

Duke Turomot sighed, as he wrote something down on a piece of paper affixed with ribbons and important-looking seals.

"Give this to the Lord Provost," he instructed. "An arrest warrant for Sir Joren of Stone Mountain." His face was grim. "Upon charge of murder. That man has gone on unpunished long enough. Would that we had caught him earlier." He nodded to Neal and Kel.

"Thank you for informing me. Good day, Sir Nealan, Lady Keladry. You may take your leave."

Neal stood and bowed, as Kel rose and curtsied.

"Thank you, your Grace," Kel said, her voice clearly expressing her gratitude.

Neal took her arm, and they exited the room, the footmen at the door standing impassively by the doors, nothing in their expressions to give away the knowledge that they were privy to most of the state secrets of the realm. Kel looked back thoughtfully, to see Neal looking at her, his eyes quizzical.

"I thought it seemed odd," Kel explained, as they continued down the corridor. "How quickly Duke Turomot believed us! It's almost as though he was waiting for this to happen…"

"He was." Neal said, yawning widely. "Duke Turomot's been furious with the way the Law Courts have become. He's been waiting for years for something to happen, but being a Conservative, isn't likely to admit it."

Kel nodded her assent.

"It's typical of them," Neal continued. "They say one thing - then protest every single reform to the country – rage a constant bitter war against you, while all along they've been secretly supporting you."

He yawned again. "I'm shattered by today. Anyway, here's your door."

They stopped. Kel was about to enter her room, when Neal stopped her, placing his hand her arm. She looked up enquiringly.

"Kel? You will be careful, won't you?" Neal looked anxious – concerned for her even. A twinge of something pleasant and warm spread through the chilled cold Kel had been feeling. She nodded, and tried to smile.

"Of course I will."

There was a pause, as both went silent, unsure of what to say. As neither spoke, the pause grew, lengthening the distance between them. They were still looking at each other, staring even, as though they were suddenly mesmerised by the other. It was as though an invisible thread bound them together.

Kel swallowed hard. Rising slightly on her toes, she moved up, and gently pressed her lips against Neal's, closing that last distance between them.

It was swift, and before Neal could properly register what had just happened, it was over.

Kel was mortified. She drew back, looking anywhere but at him, suddenly realising what she had inadvertently done. By some subconscious reflex, she had just kissed Neal!

"Goodnight," she whispered, red-faced, and before he could blink, the door had clicked shut behind her.

"Goodnight," Neal breathed, as his mind tried to wildly analyse what had just happened. "Kel."

* * *

Kel flung herself onto the bed, her mind in turmoil. What had she just done? She had kissed Neal – Neal! Why?

"What in the name of the Goddess was I thinking?" she asked out loud. She pinched herself hard to make sure she wasn't merely overwrought, and dreaming. The pain told her she was distinctly awake.

Maybe it was the shock of meeting Joren, she panicked. The thought was meant to be reassuring more than anything else. Perhaps a blow like that made people do strange things. After all, she didn't like him in _that_ way did she?

"But you do," her traitorous mind replied. "You love him."

"No I don't!" Kel insisted. She searched for an excuse. "I mean, barely even know him! It's impossible!"

Realisation was starting to dawn upon her, slowly but surely. She searched desperately for another excuse. There had to be something that would show the truth – the truth was starting to appear not so true after all.

"But weren't you meant to be trying to love him though?" her mind told her innocently. "Weren't you supposed to be attempting the impossible?"

"Yes," Kel whispered. "I just never imagined it would happen this way."

She closed her eyes, and hours later, fell into a restless sleep.


	15. Dawning Danger

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

A group of musicians played melodic tunes from the hidden gallery above, for the last, and most splendid of the Midwinter banquets. The nobles gathered about the room cast a picturesque sight in their finery, jewels glinting from the candlelight in the elaborate chandeliers. 

Kel stared morosely at the table, trying to ignore the happy couples flirting with one another, looking at each other like they hadn't a care in the world. She was sitting in a crowded room at the Midwinter Banquet, and yet she was completely alone, with only her self-recriminating feelings to keep her company.

Kel had never felt herself in love before, and she hated herself for showing it now. Of course Neal didn't return her feelings! Why would he? It was entirely implausible. He had always regarded Kel as just a friend, it was doubtful he had ever seen her as being potentially more.

Kel sighed, her depression only heightened by the gaiety that surrounded her. She had kissed Neal. And now, because of that one little kiss, she could barely look at him. For five days, she had managed to evade him, slipping into little used corridors when she saw him appear – pretending she was not present when he knocked on her door.

Why he had suddenly become so keen to find her, she simply could not fathom. The terrible thought of him rejecting her was all that kept her going in this complicated dance of invisibility.

Lifting up her glass, she swirled the wine around, watching the way the light reflected on the translucent liquid. Just now, she couldn't care less what the Court thought of her, so blatantly disregarding table etiquette.

She took a sip. The wine had a pungent flavour, with a slightly metallic aftertaste. It lasted on the tongue, and Kel vaguely wondered if her wine had started to go sour.

She set the goblet on the table, and stood. She couldn't stay there any longer, brooding over something that she was simply going to have to face. Tomorrow, she was going to talk to Neal. She had had enough of banqueting that night.

* * *

In the relative sanctuary of her rooms, it was quiet, and still. The maids had retired for the night – and Kel had let them leave early to go and enjoy the festivities. She rubbed at her eyes, and yawned. She felt extraordinarily sleepy – as though her head was muffled in some kind of soft woollen fabric. Her eyes only needed to close, and she would succumb to that state of unconscious slumber. 

Her eyelids drooped, and she forced them back up again. She shook her head – really - nodding off like that wasn't something Kel was prone to doing…

She yawned again.

It wasn't right, something at the back of her mind was shouting, pounding at her still-conscious mind. This kind was sleep wasn't natural – it was connived. The thought slowly sank through Kel's mind. With it, came the only explicable reason.

She had been drugged.

Kel staggered to her feet, only one thought pounding through her tired, tired mind.

She needed to find Neal.

Slowly, her feet took her across the room, and she managed to fling the door open, but by now it was too late to scream for help. Her mind gave one last desperate fight, before darkness engulfed her vision, and she fell.

* * *

Kel awoke to a bitter, biting cold that slapped harshly against her exposed skin. At first she thought she was twelve again, staring out over the battlements whilst the wind roared in her ears, and she could not move, frozen by her fear. 

Eighteen-year-old Keladry of Mindelan opened her eyes, to the malevolent face of Joren of Stone Mountain, his eyes bloodshot, and glinting in the darkness.

"At last," he whispered. "Keladry of Mindelan – helpless in my power."

All she could see about here was stone – and beside her there, the elaborate ironwork of nowhere else than Balor's Needle. They were on the highest tower of the palace, and she was about to be tossed over the edge.

Kel had never quite gotten over her fear of heights, and now she was finding it hard to bite back a scream. One carefully aimed push, and she'd topple to her death.

She was only inches away from death, Kel realised numbly. She was really going to die.

"They'll think you jumped," Joren hissed, his face ugly, twisted with his malice. "Poor little Keladry, who ended her life, rather than have to marry that nasty Nealan of Queenscove!"

"No one can oppose me!" he suddenly shouted, his eyes rolling madly. It would make no difference how loudly he talked, Kel knew. This high up, not even the roosting birds would be able to hear them.

"Shall I tell you why, my sweet?" he whispered, his smile contorted in his insanity. "They all said I had no magical gift, all of those stupid magic-tinkers in the city, but I've proved them all wrong. I am the first mage in one hundred years to possess the power to bring only death."

As he spoke, a scarlet mist was building up at his fingertips, solidifying with each passing second, growing thicker and darker, till it was crimson, then burgundy, then dark rust brown – the colour of dried blood.

A distant memory of sitting in her magic lessons suddenly visualised before Kel's mind, and she gasped in horrified realisation.

Joren was a Death Mage. He had only the will to destroy.

Kel stared fearfully at her captor. She frantically tried to remember what she had been taught in those lessons so long ago. Death Mages were rare – but their effects were devastating. They could appear anywhere.

At first they would seem a fairly normal child with an unusually strong gift, and a strangely charismatic appearance. Soon, they would begin to test their boundaries. Then, though a means of research, and experimentation, they would be able to resist no longer – and their powers would unleash upon the world – through the most gruesome of means.

King Jonathon's cousin had been a Death Mage – as well as the former Emperor of Carthak. Now the powers were to manifest in her worst enemy – the greatest number of Death Mages to be seen in an era.

Their powers were weak for most of the year, only to reach a peak on the darkest longest night of the year. Kel suddenly shuddered as realisation coursed through her veins.

Midwinter.

Tonight.

Death was never quick or merciful. It would be a long, drawn out affair, until the victim would beg to be killed. Kel knew Joren didn't need to throw her from Balor's Needle in order for her to die. Her fate, it seemed, had already been sealed.

* * *

Author's Note: Kel still has her phobia of heights, as she never had to rescue Lalasa in her fourth page year. This is a new chapter – one that wasn't included in the original version when I posted this two years ago, so please tell me what you think! I hope my writing skills haven't gotten too rusty… Sorry for the long time taken for me to update...I've been away at a residential workshop, and taken the qualifying test for the International Chemistry Olympiad (no, I didn't get in!). 


	16. Redemption

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Fifteen  
**

* * *

Kel struggled ineffectually against her bonds, her hands straining against the rope that bound them. Beads of sweat glistened upon her brow – but her exertions were proving fruitless. It seemed impossible. 

"Poor little Keladry," Joren murmured mock-pityingly, as the mist gathered between his palms. "Poor, poor little Keladry…all alone – with no one to come to her aid…"

He patted her face almost tenderly. Kel flinched – sickened by his repulsive touch, doubling her efforts to break free. Her skin burned where his fingers had touched it, at once the brush of fire and ice, smoke and mist, life – and death.

But wait. She tested one hand experimentally, pressing her wrist against the twine. It was not as tightly bound as she thought. The rope, at last, was beginning to give way.

"You'll see your beloved father soon, pet," Joren crooned. "Oh you'll soon be reunited again - when I send you into the Realms of the Dead!"

Her hand was free. Finally, she had managed to wriggle it out from its bindings. Desperately, Kel scrabbled to loosen the rope from the other hand, hoping and praying to the Gods that Joren had not noticed. If he did, nothing save the Gods would be able to save her now.

The dark brown gathering between Joren's hands was darkening still. Kel watched, in horrified fascination as it deepened into an unyielding, choking black, swirling in his hands, waiting to do his bidding – his deadly command.

He lifted his hands. In a flash, Kel suddenly realised what he was about to do. Just in time, she rolled out of the way, as a bolt of darkness struck the granite wall behind her back, in a tremendous shattering burst of energy.

The tower shuddered and Kel could almost hear the foundations creak, groaning as they tried to yield. With a devastating crash, the inner stairway caved in – the wood and stone splintering into fragments that spilled out through the still-open doorway.

Yet the tower still held. It had not fallen.

Joren looked murderous. He advanced on Kel, his deadly magic drained – but his ability to kill no less diminished. In one hand he held a dagger. The tip glinted in the half-obscured moonlight. The faint image of a raven was engraved just above the plainly bound hilt, glittering.

Kel stared at the weapon in horror, scrambling to her feet, supporting herself with the wall behind. She needed to defend herself, yet all she could find was rock, solid rock, supporting her back and feet. There had to be something! Anything!

There was nothing. Her hands were empty in the thin night air. Kel exhaled, despair clouding her eyes. She closed her hands in defeat.

_Six years of Yamani training took over as the Shang Horse tugged the girl's arm, preparing to throw her. She turned, let her back slide into the curve of his pulling arm, gripped him with both hands, and drew him over her hip, instinct washing over her, blanking her mind to all but the repeated drill… _

"_See what happens if you get too comfortable, Hakuin?" the Wildcat drawled. "Someone hands you a surprise. If you'd been a hair slower, she'd have tossed you."_

_Kel looked down, wishing she could disappear, as the other pages stared at her in a mixture of confusion and dislike…she had done precisely what her brother had told her not to do… _

Hidden behind her back, Kel slowly unfurled her fingers, and closed them again.

Wait.

She still had her hands, her mind, and her body. Kel hoped she still had some of her old skills, roughened and tarnished as they were from many years of disuse. If it had been the time or place, she would have shrugged.

At least there would be the element of surprise.

Kel dodged Joren's strike only just, the blade clipping the air by her ear, and swung her fist into the middle of Joren's face. It connected with his nose, cartilage crunching satisfyingly under her knuckles. Kel dragged her hand back, clutching at it. It was raw, but otherwise unhurt.

The same could not be said for Joren. His face was smeared with blood. It dripped onto his chin, dribbling onto his chest in a streak of bright crimson. He was panting in pain, but he looked up at his foe with conquest still shining in his eyes.

"No one will get the better of me," he hissed. He lifted the dagger again.

Kel seized his arm, and suddenly, like a wave that washed over her, that Yamani instinct from five years ago gripped her again. She pulled with all her strength, her muscles howling in agony, and swung him over her hip. He landed on the ground with a crash.

Kel stared defiantly at his fallen body, gasping for air. Joren did not rise again.

"No one gets the better of Keladry of Mindelan," she croaked out, before her feet gave way beneath her.

oaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaaaaaaaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaooaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaaaaaaaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoao

"Kel?"

Neal knocked on her door, but received no answer.

He sighed.

She'd been avoiding him like he had the plague for the past couple of days, and he had had no idea what to do. Eventually, even his friends had noticed his dour mood, and irritated him to no end until he finally admitted what was wrong. Then they had besieged him with well meaning advice, until Neal finally decided he was going to do what he should have done – confront Kel face to face.

His gift made a quick job of unlocking the door. It was unwarded, unlike the quarters of some Nobles, and certain chambers that contained objects not meant for public viewing.

The first thing he noticed was the maid lying against the ground, her head bloodied. Neal winced in sympathy – the injury looked nasty – but his heart was thumping heavily.

Where was she? 

The room looked utterly uninhabited. The hangings across the windows were drawn, and the candles were unlit, bathing the room in murky darkness.

A piece of parchment suddenly caught his eye. Neal bent down, and picked it up. The wax seal was blank, but with a horrible feeling writhing in his gut, Neal knew instantly who had sent it. The contents was brief, but to the point.

_If you ever want to see your little slut again, you will do as I say. _

It was unsigned. Neal narrowed his eyes as he finished reading the note, a cold fury surging through his veins. His face was white, and his eyes glittered unnaturally, but he was calm – the calm of one who knows only anger of the most terrible kind.

Joren. _What had he done?_

Neal folded the note, and placed it mechanically in his pocket. In a couple of strides, he was once more in the corridor – searching.

Where was Numair when you needed him?

oaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaaaaaaaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaooaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaaaaaaaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoao

The tower shuddered once again. Balor's Needle was not going to stay standing for long…

Kel needed to get down. She lurched to her feet, and froze at the faint sight of the ground swaying so far down below. She thanked the Gods it was dark, and all she could see was a dim outline. Perhaps if she pretended she wasn't that high up…she'd manage it.

Slowly she eased her feet down into empty air, then at last, solidly onto the first wrought step. The iron did not give way – but sweat was trickling down Kel's back, as she struggled to keep upright.

Her head swam as she managed the second step, then the next, clutching onto the rail for dear life. Her arm was stinging painfully, and when Kel pressed her fingertips to it, they came away wet with blood. Joren must have scratched it the second time.

She had to stop. Clumsily, she ripped off the hem of her skirt, and made a rough bandage. The bleeding didn't seem too bad, she hoped, though it was hard to tell.

She took a deep breath.

Now she was aware of it, her arm throbbed with each cautious step. Her legs muscles felt like water, as she navigated the stair. With each footstep, she expected to be grabbed from behind by Joren.

Kel clenched her teeth. She had to keep going. After all that bother she went to, she wasn't simply going to let herself die now.

Her vision swam. Kel wasn't sure how much further there was to go, but she couldn't manage any more. Just a little rest, she told herself. The ground lurched before her - she lost her grip, and slid down the last remaining stairs.


	17. Falling Into Place

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Sixteen  
**

* * *

"Kel!" 

Someone was shouting at her, there were voices everywhere, confusion all around her. Wasn't this the moment she was supposed to have sunk into painful oblivion?

Neal rushed towards her; not calm at all, his eyes half-wild with worry. She looked groggily up at the blurry image of his head. He looked like he was floating, she thought vaguely, but then dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Then again, he did have a gift for doing the inane.

Neal picked her up, and Kel winced as he jolted her injured arm. Funny – she hadn't realised it was broken, it had only been bleeding earlier - she wondered why Neal was running - her head was being hit with a hammer with each step he took…

She felt it before she heard it. The ground was trembling; shaking like an earth tremor had hit it. With an almighty rumble, Balor's Needle collapsed.

"Get my father," Neal ordered, as two pages rushed towards them, gaping as they stared at the ruins of what had been the tallest tower in the palace. "Get Duke Baird! She's hurt!"

The pages rushed to comply.

Neal set Kel gently down onto something – a bench she thought perhaps. His face hovered over her, anxious, the green light of his gift glowing.

"How did you know I was here?" Kel mumbled. She was tired. All she wanted to do was rest -

"Just intuition…" she heard Neal answer, but the rest slipped away, as finally at last, she succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * *

Kel opened her eyes. Neal was leaning over her bed, looking into her face, whilst her maids lingered in the background, fluttering anxiously.

"You're not supposed to be here," Kel croaked out. "Where's the chaperone?"

Neal's expression instantly changed from concerned to indignant.

"I'm not going to molest you, you know," he said huffily, and sniffed.

Kel couldn't help but crack a smile, and a weak laugh at his behaviour. She looked at her arm. It was neatly bandaged, and in a sling. There was no sign of any blood.

"What happened?" she asked eventually.

Neal noticed the direction of her gaze.

"You fractured your arm," he said, "When you fell. We stopped the bleeding pretty easily, but you'll have to let the bone heal by itself."

"But what about Joren?" Kel wanted to know.

Neal would not meet her eyes, but studied the tapestries on the wall instead, hands idly fingering the sheathed dagger at his side. His face was grim, and shadowed.

"There were some remains," Neal answered. "We identified them as the remains of Joren of Stone Mountain." He exhaled heavily, and brushed back some strands of hair.

"He's dead then?" Kel whispered.

"Yes," Neal said gently. "He's dead."

Kel had expected to feel elated, or perhaps very relieved – but strangely, all she could summon up was the feeling that she was still very, very tired.

"You should rest," Neal said softly, seeing the expression on her face. "You've had quite an adventure. Anyone would be exhausted after all that."

"I'm a murderer –" Kel said suddenly, the words darting out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I killed him."

Neal shook his head, and grasped hold on her hand. He willed her to meet his intense gaze.

"You are not," he said fiercely. "He deserved to die, Kel. Joren of Stone Mountain deserved to die – and that does not make you like him. None of this is your fault."

There was silence for a moment, and then Kel nodded dumbly, a lump forming in her throat.

"Neal," Kel whispered hesitantly, "That night before - I'm sorry for what happened – I don't know what came over me - I - "

Kel stopped, as Neal placed a finger over her lips, effectively silencing her. She looked up at him in surprise. The grimness and shadows were temporarily banished – his eyes were soft as he looked at her.

"Hush," he said gently. "I want to tell you something first. You shouldn't be sorry Kel, for anything that happened that evening."

"Really?" Kel whispered. Hope began to blossom. "So you – you wanted it to happen?"

"Of course," Neal said teasingly, but his expression was serious. Kel understood. She looked up, into his ever so familiar eyes, penetrating dark green, and all the feeling within them – was just for her.

This time it was Neal who moved to close the gap between them. His lips found hers and he kissed her, drawing her gently towards him. Kel wound her arms about his neck, and a quivery blend of happiness filled her from head to feet, banishing thoughts of everything else. There would be another time for that.


	18. A Pauper's Grave

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

"My lady!" 

Kel woke up very late the next morning, her eyes blinking blearily in the bright sunlight. The maid who had called her looked down at her mistress with concern. She was a new arrival, and not yet been briefed as to the recent events surrounding Kel. She preferred it that way – it was more comfortable when knowing eyes didn't watch you nervously all the time.

"Did milady pass a bad night?" she asked, her round eyes blinking with sympathy.

Kel shut her eyes and tried to remember. What had happened last night? There had been Neal…and butterflies when he'd kissed her…but there was something else…something significant looming over everything else.

It hit her like a fist to the stomach. Kel gasped.

The kidnapping.

The fall of Balor's Needle.

Neal had found Joren. Joren was dead.

Dead.

"My lady?"

The panicked voice of the maid brought Kel back to her senses.

"I'm alright," she said to the maid. "It's just remembering some things that shocked me, that's all."

Good and bad, Kel thought wryly to herself. At least there was Neal. As she stood up, the room swirled dizzily. Kel groaned, clutching at her forehead, waiting until the throbbing had ceased. Maybe Neal was right – and she did need to stay in bed and rest. She smiled to herself as she remembered their kisses, before something hit her with an alarming jolt – she had completely forgotten - it was exactly one week until her wedding.

Kel gasped, and pressed a hand against her forehead again. It seemed she would have a lot of work ahead of her, and a lot more to think about.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Neal asked, as Kel plonked herself beside him at breakfast. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

Kel's reply was a groan.

"Feeling rotten then?" he asked, but his voice was sympathetic.

Kel fiercely rubbed at her aching head.

Neal took it to mean a yes, and slipped a few drops of something into her tea.

"Drink up," he said, handing her the mug of fragrant steaming tea, "You'll be feeling better in no time at all."

Kel gratefully took the mug and sipped at the contents, sighing in relief as her headache receded. After a few minutes of quiet sipping, she set down an empty mug, and thanked Neal profusely.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she said gratefully, as she began to eat at some food with more appetite than she had had in a week.

"You mean, you don't know what you'd do without my headache remedy," Neal joked, as he watched Kel eat.

"Of course not!" Kel said, scandalised, before she realised he was joking. A grin lit up on her face, and she playfully pinched Neal's arm. "I meant what I said before," she said more softly, looking into his face, trying to interpret his expression.

"I know," he said, just as softly, "I know, Kel."

* * *

It was later during that day that somewhat more unpleasant business was concluded. The day had grown overcast, with dark cumulonimbus clouds that unfurled menacingly above, bringing with them the ever-closer threat of a downpour. A stifling wind ruffled Kel's hair, and tugged at the skirt of her dress. 

Joren's grave was a simple affair. There was only the freshly turned earth marking it as a burial site. No stone marked it out as the final resting place for the heir of Stone Mountain.

The three visitors in the pauper's graveyard stood in silence, looking down at the dry yellowing grass and dark earth.

"I'm glad he's gone," Kel whispered at last.

"I know," Neal answered. He patted her back.

The third visitor seemed oblivious to his two companions as he looked down at the grave.

"Mithros will judge him when he arrives at the Realms of the Dead," Duke Turomot said darkly. "He may have twisted the laws in the land of the living, but Mithros will weigh his every act and find him wanting. The process of change has been set into motion. It will be slow and painful – but our aim is true. No one, not even, the King himself will be excused from the law!"

Both Kel and Neal looked a little startled at the man's vehemence. For such a sticky conservative, Turomot was expressing some rather progressive new ideas.

"I feel I owe you an apology, Lady Keladry," Duke Turomot said, looking up sharply to meet Kel's eyes. "If I had reformed the Courts earlier, we should never have had this sorry case before us."

He nodded at Neal, before grasping his cane firmly and walking slowly away from the grave, his back upright and proud. Kel took one last look, and they too turned away from the bleak burial grounds. They would not be planning to return here soon.


	19. Reunited

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

Kel lifted her glaive from its case, marvelling at how heavy it felt to her. It would be hard, but she was going to try, to try once more to regain this knowledge she had lost.

This was only her third attempt, since she had begun to try practising again. Her first try had been hopeless. Kel had barely been able to lift the heavy teak rod, with the curved blade of steel, let alone wield it in pattern dance she barely remembered. But at least she was making progress, Kel thought, which was better than nothing.

It also helped to keep her mind from going into a state of frenzied panic. With everything that had been going on, it had been easy to forget that there was still to be a wedding – and it was Kel who was getting married. She readied herself for the beginning of the pattern dance, willing her mind to focus on that, rather than the other thought looming heavily in her mind.

Kel sighed, and set the glaive down. It was no good. Today, it seemed as though nothing had been able to distract her thoughts. Only this morning, she had had her final fitting for the wedding gown, and Lalasa had gone into floods of tears, just at the thought of Kel being a married woman.

Upon leaving Lalasa's shop and returning to the main Palace, Kel had become horribly aware of an enormous influx of relatives pouring into Corus. Though they had seemed a small number on the guest-list, they certainly didn't now.

Anders had come with his family from Mindelan, Iness too, though Conal had written to say he would not be released from royal duties – something Kel hadn't really minded. Oranie had come as well, along with several of Kel's newest nephews, eager to see their youngest aunt.

Kel felt overwhelmed with her family all suddenly being together in one place, after so many years of being apart. She had embraced Anders rather stiffly, not quite having forgiven him yet for making her get married, but the prospect of the wedding didn't seem quite so daunting as it had earlier, now that her family was here to support her.

It would be very wrong to say Kel was no longer afraid of getting married, because the truth of it was that she was, very much so. She knew she liked Neal…she knew that if she _had_ to get married, Neal would have been her choice, but somehow – she just wasn't sure about the commitment of being bound together as husband and wife.

In between busy preparations, they had made time for each other, talked and laughed, and – when no one was looking, even made a few awkward advancements…In fact, the more time Kel spent with Neal, the more she felt like he was the only one she would love to spend the rest of her life with…

Kel shook her head, and tried to laugh at her foolish daydreaming, but she couldn't help but think of what married life with Neal would be like. With a little trepidation, Kel wondered if in her own marriage she would ever love her husband so much that the death of him would destroy her. The idea was frightening, and Kel shivered a little.

She had barely recognised her mother; Lady Ilane was still tall, but she stooped now, and her formerly luxuriant hair was wispy and thin. Devastated by the death of Baron Piers, it was no longer possible to see in her the strong, resourceful woman who had saved the Yamani swords from capture, prepared to fight against an enemy she had little hope of beating.

Would that ever happen to her?

Kel, jumped, as a sharp rap sounded against her bedchamber door. Trying to quash the overwhelming nervousness that occasionally now surfaced, she steadied her voice to answer, only to promptly drop her glaive onto her foot. Kel bit her lip, trying not to cry out in pain.

"Kel?"

Oranie's voice called out. Kel hopped about on one foot, stifling a yelp as she lost her balance and jarred her toes against the wall.

"Come in," she gasped, gritting her teeth as she waited for the waves of pain to subside.

The door opened, and Lady Adalia of Nond rushed forward to embrace her sister, all ladylike sensibilities forgotten, whilst Oranie followed a little more sedately, the effect only spoiled by the wide grin on her face.

"Adie?" Kel whispered in shock. "I thought you weren't going to make it!"

"Oh Kel," Adalia said breathlessly. "I wanted to come earlier, but I couldn't leave the children, and now I'm here, there's something I've simply _got _to show you!"

Kel hugged her sister hard, feeling tears prickle her eyes. Not again, Kel thought ruefully, I never cried so much since I came here.

Adalia was looking with concern into Kel's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly, her brown eyes concerned. "Have I come at a bad time?" The shaking of her curls betrayed her anxiety, and Kel was quick to soothe.

She shook her head, laughing through her tears. "It's not that," she said, trying to reassure her sister that nothing was wrong, "I'm just happy to see you, it's been so long!"

Adalia embraced her sister affectionately again, and the eyes of both sisters were wet this time.

"I'm happy to see you too, Kel."

The sound of a throat being discreetly cleared alerted Kel back to the present once more. Oranie still stood by the door, smiling in the annoying way she had when there was something on her mind. She held out a carved box, and put in into Kel's hands.

"It's for you," she said simply.

"What is it?" Kel asked, staring down at the container, dumbfounded. It seemed vaguely familiar…

The thought hit her like a fist to the stomach.

"It can't be-" she stated flatly.

Adalia nodded. "It is. The box contains the jewels that Grandmamma promised for her granddaughter who made the best marriage. It should be yours."

"But- but," Kel protested, "Grandmamma gave them to you, Adie! It's not fair on you to lose them!"

She tried to give the box back to Adie, but the older sister waved both box and protests aside, smiling all the while, whilst Oranie laughed at their antics.

"It is fair, Kel. They should be yours. Besides, I'd feel guilty keeping them," she said, firmly placing the box in Kel's hands. "Open it."

With trembling hands, Kel's fingers moved to the delicate golden clasp embedded into the polished rosewood of the box. She carefully lifted the lid, exposing the velvet-encased interior, and gave a little involuntary gasp.

In one box lay mementos that traced back to years and years in their family. These jewels were from Seabeth and Seajen, the fief and family which Kel's mother, Lady Ilane had come from, a family who could trace their lineage to the Book of Silver. In one box, lay years, decades, even centuries of memories and treasures, all lying there, looking so fragile in their casing of velvet.

"Kel?"

Adalia stood beside Kel, looking down into the casket she held in her hands. No words needed to be spoken to the other. They both understood.


	20. Contemplation

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

The Royal Chapel of Mithros and the Goddess, was a beautiful building, carved entirely from pale white marble, set a little apart from the main palace buildings. Of late, it had been used mainly for private worship, and for some, weddings. 

Kel walked into the chapel, her leather-shod feet making no noise against the stone of the floor as she walked through. Was this how she would have felt if she had been in the Chapel of the Ordeal? Would she have had that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach? And yet, Kel did not merely feel a sense of foreboding as she entered the room. There was something else too, some treacherous part of her mind that told her in the end, she would look back on the wedding as a happy memory. But for now, Kel ignored that, refusing to believe.

Kel sat down on one of the marble benches, and stared at the gold altar, the figures of Mithros Sun Lord and the Great Mother Goddess superimposed above, their cold stone eyes gazing over the room. She would be married tomorrow. Married in this very room. Kel's stomach clenched with nerves.

She had taken a relatively small part in the wedding preparations. The Duchess of Queenscove, Neal's mother, had taken over most of the planning and decision-making. Kel admired the Duchess, who seemed in a way so much like her own mother had been, seemingly delicate and fragile on the outside, showing remarkable strength and integrity on the inside. Somehow, the Duchess had managed to direct affairs for the wedding entirely from Queenscove, a good five hours ride from the capital.

Kel thought about her bare rooms, stripped of belongings and personal effects. A flood of different feelings had run through her, a mixture of regret and loss and hope. She was moving on from this stage of her life, readying herself to embrace the next part, daunting though it seemed.

Her belongings were being packed; they would be sent to Queenscove where she would be spending most of her time. It sounded strange - going home to Queenscove. Kel wasn't sure if she could ever consider Queenscove to be her home. But then again, she hadn't as of yet given anywhere that name yet. Mindelan, she had lived there for too short a time to consider her home. The Convent had been too unpleasant, more a prison that a home. In fact, the only place that had come close was the palace, and Kel would be leaving.

Kel sighed as she thought about the wedding itself. At least it would not be some massive Court affair, with half the population there to witness her marriage; it was to be a small private affair, with only immediate friends and family present. No. At least she would not be forced to make a spectacle of herself. That at least was something she was thankful for.

Her wedding dress hung in her room, resplendent in its glory, shimmering faintly in the light gently filtering through the windows. She would only wear that gown once, and that gown would be the one she would wear when she would be bound in marriage, for life.

It was strange, Kel thought, that though she wanted to be with Neal, she was still wasn't sure, still was reluctant to accept the wedding – and all the ties that came with it.

Marriage.

Commitment.

They were turns of events that Kel wasn't sure she was able to face up to yet. She didn't know if she could really pledge herself for life to someone she had only just begun to know again.

In a sudden change of thought, memories suddenly surfaced through Kel's mind, vague, but still there – memories of her childhood.

_She screamed as Conal held her over the edge of the balcony. The ground swayed beneath her, and Conal's hands were slippery with sweat. She knew she would die if he let go of her. Even the trees disappeared into the ground like soft green tufts, the people down there almost like ants – they were so small. Kel screamed and screamed, till the maids finally called for help. _

Kel shuddered as she remembered that – one of the earliest of her memories. Conal had never been one of her favourite brothers, perhaps it had all stemmed from this. Perhaps she was still bitter towards him for that crippling fear she had always felt on ascending heights.

_The Yamani children were too well trained to show what they felt about Kel on their faces, but she could tell by the way they confided in each other, by the slightly mocking glances occasionally flung towards her direction. Kel only knew a few words of Yamani, but she could understand the overheard snatches of conversation._

_"That foreigner's still here!" __"My father said she came from a country where all the men and women look like ghosts!" __"Ghosts!" __"She doesn't act like a ghost – she's too clumsy!" __"A clumsy foreign barbarian!" _

She thought about those years when they had gone to the Yamani Isles, as she had abandoned everything she had ever known to try and fit in with those foreigners that teased and stared at her – pointing to the strange Tortallan girl. She had worked hard to integrate herself in their society, but she had been successful.

_The scent of burning wood hung heavy in the air. Ilane of Mindelan thrust the sacred golden swords of the Yamanis into Kel's hands. Blood struck Kel's face as Ilane whirled around her glaive, cutting into a Scanran pirate's chest. She managed to kill four attackers before the imperial guardsmen appeared to finish off the rest. _

The Emperor had welcomed them into his personal circle after her mother had saved the Yamani swords from capture, but it had not been enough to seal a treaty between the countries, or an alliance of marriage. They had returned home to Mindelan, only for her father to leave for the Yamani Isles again, and return a completely changed man.

She remembered her first year as a page. She had felt just like she had as a newcomer in the Yamani Isles. The other boys had teased and stared at her – she was _different. _Joren had watched her with that mocking smile in his eyes. She remembered how he had treated her – confident that this _girl _would never be permitted to continue training as a knight.

Kel remembered with a painful pang that terrible day her father had died. He had been so pale and thin, a mere shadow of the man she knew.

_The room was cold, even though logs had been piled high in the fireplace. The sickbed was flung into shadow. In it lay her father, tossing and turning, as fever burned him from the inside, his lips cracked. Kel approached, and an icy chill swept over her as she saw him. _

_"Ilane," Piers of Mindelan whispered weakly to the woman by his bedside. _

_"I'm here," Kel's mother answered, and for the first time, Kel saw tears clouding her mother's eyes. _

_Her father's eyes focussed on Kel by his bed. He tried to smile. _

_Kel took hold of his hand, only to see his eyes fall shut. _

_His breathing slowed… _

_Slowed… _

_Stopped. _

_The occupants of the room bowed their heads. Ilane of Mindelan, pale, but still composed, reached over to close his eyes. She turned towards Kel, and then – at last, she broke down, sobbing into her daughter's arms, whilst the body of Piers of Mindelan slowly turned cold. _

She watched the sky steadily change colour, from pale lavender, to a hazy shade of blue, with grew steadily clearer as the sun peaked in the sky. She watched the soft hints of rose appear at the horizon, until the sky was awash with shades of deep pink and blue, combining to form a deep purple. She watched until the stars appeared in the sky, pinpricks of light upon a deep velvet mantle.

Kel didn't return for breakfast, lunch, or even dinner. In a way, it was as though she was preparing for her own Ordeal, though it would never be an Ordeal of Knighthood. Kel shook her head, dispersing with that thought. There would be other times to regret. This was not one of them. This was a time to prepare for her future.


	21. Wedding Bells

**Betrothed to Him**

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

Kel woke, and her stomach lurched with nerves as she remembered. Today was her wedding day. 

The morning passed in a vague blur, for the ceremony would be taking place at midday, and she would arrive at Queenscove at dusk. She remembered taking in the details of her room one last time, being led by her maids towards the Chapel, and prepared in the robing room.

The robing room was at the back of the Chapel, and it was here that she would be prepared for her wedding. Neal would be likewise prepared, only a wall separated them from each other and what was to come.

Kel frowned slightly as she thought of Neal. She hadn't seen him properly for a while, not when both were immersed in a flurry of preparation. The next time she would see him would be when she was about to become his wife.

Kel sat before the mirror as her hair was combed, lost in her thoughts, not knowing what to think. She knew she loved Neal, but was that enough to be able to marry him? Did she love him enough to say her vows with the uttermost of sincerity, to be able to live in marital contentment?

In the past she had always imagined this moment, her angry, resentful, hating every minute. But it wasn't like that. There was no anger, and her resentment was gone. She felt – afraid – nervous – tense, and happy?

"Yes," that treacherous part of her mind said. "You want this to happen, now. Admit it, Keladry of Mindelan, you're afraid, you were always afraid, but now you want this to be. You want to marry Neal."

"I want to marry Neal," she whispered, both elated and frightened at the sudden discovery. It was as though a bubble of hope had suddenly risen out of nowhere, and she was afraid that a single movement would burst it.

A sharp knock on the door brought her out of her reverie.

"M' lady?" The maid looked enquiringly at her mistress. "It is time to leave."

Kel took a deep breath and nodded, slowly standing up. Adie waited at the door, her skin rosy against the white velvet of her gown, waiting to lead her in.

"You look beautiful," Adie whispered, as she led Kel towards the aisle where she would walk down. Kel gave a tiny smile, gathered her courage, and continued down, unescorted, towards her future before her. Her eyes were focused on one person only, looking straight ahead as she walked, meeting the eyes of her future husband. Neal stared back at his future wife, and at that moment, both realised, they were perfect for each other.

* * *

Kel stepped out into the bright winter sunlight, smiling rather shyly beside Neal, who was grinning. To the innocent observer, their expressions may have seemed rather surprising for a couple who had been wed against their wills. Though Kel, had she been asked, would not have chosen to marry anyone else in the world. 

Neal looked at her, one eyebrow raised as though in question. Kel smiled, in agreement, and he bent forward to embrace her, for the first time, as husband and wife. The kiss was long and tender, and filled with promise of things to come. The gathered group of friends and family surrounding them clapped, some cheering as the pair lifted their heads, Kel blushing profusely, and Neal's cheeks tinged red.

Neal caught Kel's eye, and nodded his head in the direction of the carriage, waiting to take them to Queenscove. His arm would have been held out, had Kel not already been holding it.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice enquiring, the familiar lock of brown hair falling familiarly into his eyes.

Kel stared at that lock of hair. For the first time, she lifted her hand, just as she had wanted to, so many times, for so long, and gently brushed it to the side.

"Of course," she said softly in reply, tucking the stray hairs behind his ear, her hand still caressing the side of his face. She took a glimpse at Neal's expression, and suddenly began to laugh. He looked utterly stunned, in a state of complete shock.

"I've wanted to do that since I first met you," she explained, as he led her down the marble steps towards the waiting carriage.

"What?" Neal exclaimed. "When you were ten? That's what my mother used to do to me!"

Kel only grinned mischievously in reply. Neal sighed in mock-defeat, and helped her into the carriage.

"Mithros," he said in resignation, "What have I gotten myself into?"

**THE END**


End file.
